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BOSTON: 

N. H. WHITNEY & CO., PUBLISHERS, 


Copyright, 1877, by 

N. H. WHITNEY & CO. 


Stereotyped and Printed by 
Randy Avery, and Company, 
Iiy Franklin Street, 
Boston. 


AUTHOR’S NOTE. 


TN the expectation that the situations described 
in this little book will be very generally recog- 
nized, and, as a consequence, the author’s real name 
generally known, or supposed, I wish to state that 
the work was written in the first person to accom- 
modate what seemed to be a demand growing out 
of the peculiarities of the incidents which form the 
subject matter of the sketch. Hence the reader 
is at liberty to suppose the writer and Jean Clark- 
son identical, or two persons, as the case may 
require, or as will best suit his or her fancy. 
There is a reality about the matter, either one way 
or the other. 


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X. • '• ♦ ' i ( r ' • 

■ : -• ’ -i L l 4fc 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


CHAPTER I. 



OTTA, my wife, had spent the afternoon in 


“* — ' sorrow. The hours before my return were 

few, but to her long and heavy. 

Dinner over, I had left the rooms in our hotel, 
and busied myself with important work at the of- 
fice, little suspecting that dreadful news — a fear- 
ful disclosure, I ought to say, — was being poured 
into the astonished ears of my devoted wife during 
my absence. 

I had come into the belief that my secret, or sin, 
was forever buried, and would be remembered ever 
after only by three persons, each of whom was 
equally interested with myself in keeping it within 
their own breasts. But, alas ! there is nothing 


5 


6 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


truer in the Book of God, than, “ Be sure your sin 
wilMind you out.” 

Six o’clock had come : the business for the day 
was over ; and, as my thoughts ran swiftly over the 
transactions of the afternoon, which were by no 
means without profit, my heart took fresh courage, 
and my hopes lifted themselves into a higher range ; 
while the unrest of a troubled conscience within, 
which had been yearning in vain for righteous vin- 
dication, was once more hushed into involuntary 
quiet. 

Lotta heard my returning footsteps on the stair- 
case, and was standing in the half -open door of our 
suite to receive me with her usual smiles and kiss 
of welcome ; but it seemed to me that she never 
looked half so beautiful as now. Her face was 
radiant, as with the consciousness of recent or ap- 
proaching victory. Her blue eyes flashed softly, 
but there was the bright fire of firm resolve in 
them. She took charge of my hat and overcoat, 
with an eagerness that seemed fraught with an 
ecstatic joy. In short, that she felt a new interest 
in me, was manifest in every action. 

“ O Jean, Jean ! how I do love you, with all my 
heart! How devotedly I have loved you these ten 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


7 


years, but never so much as now ! ” and, as if to 
emphasize her words, or force the reality of their 
meaning upon me, she threw herself into my lap, 
and, with both arms about my neck, kissed me pas- 
sionately. 

“ That is pretty well done, Lotta,” said I : “ you 
must have been rehearsing that on the chamber- 
maid this afternoon. There is a dramatic air about 
it not all your own, but the acting is good. It 
must be something costly this time ! I haven’t 
seen any thing to come up to this, since you fell 
into a passion for that two-hundred-dollar silk vel- 
vet, in which you look so charming to-night. You 
shall have it, you shall have it, no matter what 
it is ; but let me rise and wash for tea.” 

“ O Jean, Jean ! ” was the only reply ; and she 
still held me, with her arms both about my neck, 
but with her face now hid in my bosom. 

“ What is the matter ? ” I asked, at the same 
time trying to raise her from me. 

“ Do you love me, Jean ? ” Her voice was fill- 
ing rapidly. 

“ Certainly, Lotta ! Of course I love you, and 
only you. Why do you ask ? ” But now I felt a 
strange mistrust rising within me. She had dis- 


8 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


covered, in some way, every secret that I had 
desired to keep from her ; and I had almost decided, 
in my own mind, that at some time or another she 
would come into possessidn of this last and most 
important of them all. 

“ Oh, because I am afraid you have given your 
heart to another ! Yes, to another , to another ! at 
last I am to be cast off ! ” She sobbed out these 
words, still holding me firmly. 

“ What do you mean, Lotta ? You are crazy. 
You frighten me : raise up quickly ! ” 

“ I am not crazy. I am heart-broken, I am 
killed ! O Jean, Jean, Jean ! ” and she wept con- 
vulsively. 

It was now plain that Lotta had heard some- 
thing. To me it was not a question as to what , 
but how. I resolved to commit myself as little as 
possible, and remained silent. 

“ How could you deceive me in this way ? oh, 
how could you ? What will become of me ? I will 
die, d!e broken-hearted ! ” 

“ What is the matter ? Do explain quickly : I 
am anxious about you ! ” 

“ Anxious ? Do you love me ? that is all I want 
to know ! That I will know, must know ! Tell 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 9 

me truly : I can bear it,” she added, without chan- 
ging her position. 

“ Yes : you know I love, you. But do explain 
yourself. Tell me what you mean : I am out of 
patience, and will have an explanation.” 

“ You know what is the matter, and need no ex- 
planation ! ” she replied, raising her head, and look- 
ing me full in the face, through her tears. 

“ Do I ? no, I don’t,” I stammered, unconscious 
of what I said. 

“ O Jean ! how could you, how could you do 
such a thing ? 

“ What ? ” I inquired, hoping she would out with 
it, for now my suspense had become unbearable. 

“ Write such letters to that girl ! I have seen 
them. You never wrote such affectionate letters 
to me. Y ou love her, you know you do : you know 
you do ! ” the last words being rendered partially 
inaudible by her sobs, as she dropped her head 
upon my shoulder. 

“ What letters ? ” I demanded, without knowing • 
why I asked the question, but hoping in my mad 
excitement to learn how she had made the discov- 
ery, which it was now only too plain she had made. 

“ I have seen them all. There is no doubt about 
it : they are in your own handwriting ! ” 


IO 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


“Who has been here in my absence ?” I in- 
quired earnestly. 

“ The Rev. Mr. Grey thorn. He has told me all. 

0 Jean, Jean! what shall I do? This is my pay 
for standing by you through all these years. Was 
ever wife truer than I ? Whv must I be treated so 
shamefully ? ” 

“And you believed him, without even so much 
as an explanation from me, did you ? ” It was all 

1 could say, and I felt myself sinking so rapidly 
that something had to be said. 

“ But I saw the letters ! ” she answered ; and by 
this time she had partly suppressed her tears, and 
seemed to grow firmer with every word. 

After a pause of about one minute, in which my 
thoughts moved rapidly, and in which Lotta rose 
from my knee, and seated herself on a cushion at 
my feet, with her eyes looking up into mine, ex- 
pressing a deep anguish and a firmness that sent a 
cold chill through my whole nature, I broke the 
silence, having, as I then supposed, caught her in- 
tentions, and said, — 

“ Lotta.” 

She looked at me earnestly, but did not speak. 
The tears were rolling, at intervals, down her burn- 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


1 1 


ing cheeks. She was in deep sorrow ; but there 
possessed her a spirit stronger than her emotions 
of grief, — a resolve between which and her woe 
there seemed to be a mighty conflict waging, but 
in which the former swayed an easy mastery ; and 
I was puzzled to determine whether there was 
most of sorrow or of joy pictured in her face. She 
looked a real heroine, and seemed to possess a will 
strong enough for any conflict ; yet there was in 
that ever-to-be-remembered gaze, something which, 
while it held me helplessly its victim, inspired me 
with hope, and I could not regard her with fear. 

“ Lotta,” I repeated, “ you know all, though you 
are greatly misinformed ; but I will not now at- 
tempt to discharge myself from this accusation. 
But few of your apprehensions are true ; and, with 
the explanation which time will soon put upon 
them, they will bear a vastly different interpreta- 
tion. I shall now ask you to take my word for 
only one thing, — I do not and never did love that 
girl ! ” 

Lotta remained motionless, but her eyes flashed 
forth evidences of mighty convulsions within. 

“ If it is your wish, Lotta, we will separate. The 
writings may be drawn at any hour, and you can 


12 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


act your own pleasure about a divorce ; but you 
shall have fifteen hundred a year until you are 
again married, while I live ; and when I die you 
already know how you are to be provided for.” 

These were the igniting strokes ; and the fires 
such as can burn only in a woman’s heart, and 
which had been so long pent up, now burst forth in 
volcanic flame. 

“ Never ! ” she cried, “ no, never ! I married you 
for better or for worse. I placed my all upon the 
altar, body, soul, and spirit, ten years ago, and it 
is there to-night ; nor can the blackest accusations 
of men or angels move it. I love you, and will die 
loving you. I have defended you through all the 
past years, and I will defend you to the end of my 
life. I know your faults, but I love you none the 
less; nay, but more, that I may win you from a 
repetition of them. Leave you, — separate ? no, 
never, while you love me. I can die, if need be, in 
this struggle ; but leave you, never!” * 

She stood before me, no longer the plain wife 
that she had been, no longer a common creature, 
but a statue of marvellous beauty, — a living pic- 
ture, in which there seemed to be a grand trium- 
phal mingling of beauty, virtue, tenderness, devo- 
tion, power, faith, and love. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


13 


But she had not ended, — only paused, as if to 
await the realization of a witnessing Heaven above, 
— and continued : — 

“ When that man came here, and told his errand, 
I listened patiently. He showed me the letters, 
and I read them carefully ; but when he had fin- 
ished, I took my stand between him and the closed 
door, and demanded the letters, and declared that 
I would lose my life rather than that he should 
depart with them. I lived out that declaration 
until they were consumed in the fire before us ; 
and then I bade him depart, adding, that if I were 
not a woman, I would punish him on the spot. 
Separate ? O Jean ! how could you say that ? where 
is your heart ? Have, you forgotten our past ? ” 

“Forgive me, Lotta!” was all I could say for 
myself. 


14 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


CHAPTER II. 

T MUST now pause to give my reader an intro- 
duction to Jean and Lotta, and to note some of 
the principal events in their lives. This is ren- 
dered necessary to the end that the peculiar situa- 
tion described in the previous chapter may be 
explained. 

Jean Clarkson was born in 1848, in a rural 
Eastern district, not many miles from the inland 
waters of the Atlantic. His home was located on 
a pleasant farm, bordering a beautiful bay to which 
had been given half the name of a noted Eng- 
lish general. His father, Guy Clarkson, was poor; 
but as there were none who were rich, for many 
miles around, the want of surplus wealth was but 
little felt. There was no city, within a hundred 
miles of the place, and nothing which could have 
been properly called a village nearer than five 
miles. The place was intensely rural. The farm 


1 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


*5 


work was done by oxen, the grist taken to and 
from the mill by oxen. The farm produce taken 
to the village, and the tea and molasses taken 
in exchange for it were transported by oxen. In 
short, even church-going, when walking was to be 
avoided, had to be accomplished by oxen. Horses 
were a great luxury in that neighborhood, and the 
Clarkson family did not rise to the dignity of own- 
ing a horse until Jean had reached his twelfth year. 

Jean’s father was an easy-going, happy farmer, 
who loaned to and borrowed from his neighbors, as 
benevolence suggested or need required, and was 
never particular about exact measurements, so long 
as he gave more than he received. Two things, 
perhaps three, rendered his becoming rich not a 
supposable question : first, the resources of the 
whole neighborhood, if strained to the utmost, 
would not have yielded enough for that purpose ; 
second, he would have given it away as fast as he 
could have accumulated money ; and, third, he 
never desired to be rich. 

Jean’s mother was energetic, pushing, and pru- 
dent ; and, had she lived where honest toil was re- 
warded, by her own industry she would have en- 
riched the family she reared. In her rude loom, 


i6 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


with shuttle in hand, and Jean at the quill-wheel, 
winding quills, she wove through many a day, 
and then, by the light of two tallow candles, 
through many a long evening, not only for her own 
family, but for scores of other families, at six cents 
a yard, thus not only clothing but feeding her 
children by her ceaseless toil. No city mother 
could do what she did. Think of shearing 
forty sheep, washing the wool, greasing it, carding 
it, spinning it, spooling the cotton warp, then 
weaving hundreds of yards, and all this by hand ! 
But these days have passed away, and the American 
people have come into a better inheritance ; and so 
also has Jean’s mother passed away, into a better 
inheritance, — the heavenly, — where spooling and 
carding and weaving are no more. 

Jean’s boyhood was not less wonderful than was 
his manhood strange and eventful. There seemed 
in store for him a remarkable experience, and it 
began with his birth, nay, even before ; for eight 
days before that event, on the 6th of March, 1848, 
his father’s house was burned to the ground with all 
that it contained except its inmates, and Jean came 
into the world homeless. At the age of three and 
a half years, he conceived a curious idea from a 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


17 


mason who was doing some plastering in a room in 
his father’s house, and at once became the pro- 
moter and conductor of an extensive enterprise on 
a similar plan at the back of the house, which had 
been newly shingled. Being assisted by his elder 
brother, he mixed the reddish mud into a sort of 
brick mortar, and, with the use of the trowels which 
he removed unobserved from the mason’s tool- 
chest, succeeded in plastering the shingled wall 
very neatly with a coat of dim red, about two 
inches thick and as high as he could reach. 
Being discovered before staging could be erected, 
he was thwarted in what he regarded as a laudable 
enterprise ; but he had the satisfaction of being 
soundly thrashed for what he had already accom- 
plished. 

The toiling mother sent him to school in the 
hope of gaining some relief (for his constant and 
unaccountable mischief had become the pest of 
her life), perhaps quite as much as with a view to 
his education. He was kept there, much against 
his will, but with little effect ; and, when he had 
reached his tenth year, his mind had not yet mas- 
tered a definition of such terms as “noun” or 
“ verb,” much less the difference between them. 


18 THAT YOUNG MAN. 

At this age he passed pretty much out of the 
control of any one, and was as often on a hazel- 
nut expedition as at his books ; but he found little 
difficulty in persuading his not over-anxious par- 
ents that his studies were uninterrupted. 

At the age of thirteen Jean awakened from the 
careless demeanor of the country boy, and began 
to look ahead. He realized that his past five years 
at school had been worse than thrown away ; but 
he placed more emphasis upon what he would yet 
accomplish, than regrets upon what he had failed 
to do. Thirty or forty miles distant he could get 
work at seventy-five cents a day, in a coal-mine ; 
and he resolved to bid good-by to home and its 
scenes, and strike out for himself, which he did at 
the age of thirteen, and has since presided over 
his own destinies, through many a remarkable 
experience. 

There were no parting scenes between the 
mother and her boy to describe. The father 
neither advised nor opposed his plan, for both ex- 
pected that his stay from home would not extend 
over a week. But Jean was not of the homesick 
material, which his parents were perhaps too late 
in realizing for his or their best interests. 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


x 9 


I will not detain the reader with an account of 
Jean’s progress after he left his home, until he had 
qualified himself for the position of teacher. In 
four years he had fought his own way, unaided, to 
a considerable knowledge of such branches as are 
taught in the present average high school, and pre- 
sented himself to the examining board for a license 
to teach, which he was readily granted. 


20 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


CHAPTER III. 

T T AVING said, perhaps, all that is necessary 
of Jean’s boyhood, and as Jean and myself 
are one and the same person, I will pass from the 
use of the third to the first person as in the open- 
ing chapter. 

I had spent the winter in school with good 
results, and was now on my way to the settlement 
of Winthrop, a beautiful valley, dotted thickly with 
old-fashioned but pleasant farmhouses. I carried 
with me my license to teach, granted by the coun- 
ty board. It was the first tangible evidence I had 
ever received of real success. Having left my 
father’s house four years before, with almost the 
smallest amount of knowledge possible to a boy of 
average intelligence, I had hewn my own way, 
unaided, through many obstacles, to a fair educa- 
tion ; had mastered Chambers’s six books of Euclid, 
and the same author’s full course of practical math- 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


21 


ematics, and acquired a fair knowledge of history 
and kindred branches ; and altogether I was well 
prepared for the duties with which I now sought 
to be made responsible. 

With no meagre realization of my importance, 
I walked in a dignified air along the river road, 
living over and over again, in the strength of 
anticipation, many achievements which I have 
never realized. 

“ Surely I will get the school,” I soliloquized. 
“ I have the inspector’s recommendation, and he 
assured me that all of the trustees were anxious to 
engage me.” 

The sun had scarcely passed the zenith, when I 
entered the settlement of Winthrop ; and there 
was still a possibility that I should complete my 
journey in time to dine with the squire. 

The squire to whom I refer was chairman of the 
board of trustees, and one of the wealthiest and 
most influential men of * the valley. These were 
facts making it necessary that I shoukl lose no 
time in securing an interview with him, and I 
turned into the lane leading to his house, with some 
misgivings. 

“ Good day, sir ! a stranger in this neighborhood, 


22 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


I take it,” said a little man in homespun, in front 
of his own castle, his furrowed face partly hid by 
the broad-rimmed straw hat, the handiwork of his 
own good wife. 

These words carried with them a cheer and wel- 
come which touched my heart, and I took courage. 

“ Good day, sir ! Yes, a stranger. I am look- 
ing for a school,” I replied. 

“ Your name, please ? ” he inquired. 

“Jean Clarkson,” was my quick reply; for I fan- 
cied that name would add to my welcome. 

“ Guy Clarkson’s son ? ” The squire asked the 
question earnestly, and looked at me sharply. 

“Yes, sir,” I said, with a bow of satisfaction. 

This brought the squire’s hand out enthusiastic- 
ally, and I received a decided token of his respect 
for my father. 

“ Come in, come in ! ” and he led the way into the 
old but neatly appointed dwelling. I was conducted 
to the presence of his good wife, Mrs. Jane Bennett. 

“Jane,* this is Guy Clarkson’s son, — James, I 
believe they call him. He comes to teach our 
school,” said the squire, by way of introducing me 
to his wife. 

“Jean, not James, is my name, sir,” I urged, with 
some timidity. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


23 


“Jim! Well, that is only a short for James,” 
replied the squire reprovingly. 

“Jean, Jean is the name. Why, father, don’t 
you understand ? *’ remonstrated Mrs. Bennett. 

A decided noise in an adjoining room, as of the 
squeaking of an old-fashioned cord bedstead, at- 
tracted our attention, and all eyes were turned in 
one direction. The sight that met our gaze will 
not be effaced from my memory till the end of life. 

The door leading to what was so well known in 
that household as “the girl’s bedroom” had been 
made ten inches shorter than the frame or casing, 
for purposes of ventilation ; and a neat little curtain 
of lace had been frilled upon a wire, to both orna- 
ment and blind the aperture. 

A delicate white hand had pushed aside this 
little curtain ; and the space revealed thereby — 
about the size of a nine-by-ten window-pane — 
enclosed for a single moment one of the fairest, 
sweetest faces of which maiden ever boasted. 

The face came and went so quickly, and the 
little curtain returned to its place with so little dis- 
play, that all might have passed without a remark 
from any one in our party ; but the performance 
was accentuated by another unmerciful squeaking 
of the bed. 


24 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


“Lotta, what is the matter?” called out the 
anxious and mortified mother in a high and excited 
pitch of voice. 

But, as this inquiry brought no answer, she rose, 
and entered the little bedroom, closing the door 
after her. 

Ten days later, with the aid of the squire, I was 
organizing my school in the old red schoolhouse in 
Lower Winthrop, so called to distinguish it from 
Upper Winthrop, a continuation of the same settle- 
ment, but farther up the river. 

Excepting the inconvenience of “ boarding 
around,” I enjoyed that summer perhaps as I have 
never enjoyed another ; and when the term was 
ended, I was re-engaged for the winter months, to 
the satisfaction of both scholars and people. 

Two summers and two winters came and went ; 
but with the close of the last I terminated my en- 
gagement with the trustees of the Winthrop school, 
and swung out into a still more responsible exist- 


ence. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


25 


CHAPTER IV. 

HHHE reader may now accompany Mrs. Bennett 
-*■ as she rose from her chair, and repaired to the 
“ girl’s bedroom,” on the occasion referred to in the 
previous chapter. 

“What in the world do you mean, Lotta ? That 
strange gentleman saw your face over the door, and 
heard the fearful squeaking of the bed,” said the 
disconcerted mother. 

“Who is he, ma?” asked Lotta in a subdued 
tone, blushing deeply. 

“ Jean Clarkson, the new teacher who has come 
to teach our school ; and what do you suppose 
he will think of you, Lotta ? I thought you were 
sick. How could you climb upon that foot-board 
so as to look over that door? This is all very 
imprudent, my child.” 

Lotta hid her face under the bed-clothes, but 
made no reply until Mrs. Bennett turned to leave 
the room, when she ventured, — 


2 6 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


“ Will he get the school, ma ? ” 

“Why do you ask such a question, Lotta? You 
surely do not expect to go to school any more, es- 
pecially to that young man,” answered her mother. 

“No, ma, I do not expect to go to school any 
more; but” — 

“ But what, Lotta ? ” asked her mother promptly. 

“Well, I was just thinking how he is probably a 
young man, just starting out in life, and something 
made me feel that I should like him to succeed.” 

Lotta spoke these words hesitatingly, in some 
confusion, and seemed to be greatly agitated. , 

“Lotta,” asked Mrs. Bennett,' now somewhat 
surprised, “ what led you to do so rash a thing as 
to look over that door at a strange gentleman ? 
You know it is very improper.” 

“ I cannot tell, ma. Something led me to do it, 
and I did it.” 

“You cannot tell! Are you not in your right 
mind ? ” demanded the anxious mother, who was 
evidently worried with the strange actions of her 
daughter. 

“ That is, ma, I do not like to. I — I am worse, 
perhaps. May I sit up a little while?” replied 
Lotta, who was not aware of what she was saying. 


THAT YOUNG 'MAN, 


27 


“ You are worse, perhaps, and wish to sit up a 
little while ! Why, Lotta, your mind is wandering. 
You alarm me. Are you very sick, my dear?” 
and Mrs. Bennett shook with fear. She pulled the 
covering from Lotta’ s face, and beheld the great 
tears standing in her eyes, ready to • break over her 
crimson cheeks. 

“ O Lotta, the fever has returned ! ” the mother 
exclaimed frantically, and turned to call her hus- 
band. 

“Wait, ma: the fever has not returned. I am 
better, almost well. Let me get up, and dress. I 
am restless here.” 

Mrs. Bennett turned to her daughter, bewildered. 
There was an expression in her face which she 
could not fathom ; but she kissed the sick one ten- 
derly, and bade her remain quiet while she with- 
drew to assist the .younger girls in preparing dinner 
for Mr. Clarkson, for the family had already dined. 

The afternoon was well-nigh spent. The school 
children were noisily threading their way home- 
wards ; and I, drawn by a spell which I could not 
comprehend, bent my course in deep meditation 
towards the squire’s. 


28 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


The children were playing - in the doorway, and 
rose to welcome me in their rude manner as they 
had often done before. After a sham wrestle with 
the five-year-old boy, and a teasing attempt to kiss 
the seven-year-old girl, I was invited into the house 
by Mrs. Bennett, whose natural kind-heartedness 
overcame any scruples which she might have 
entertained concerning me as a fit person for her 
daughter’s society. 

We chatted a little while together; and, as no 
one else was there to share in the conversation, I 
grew nervous, and asked, — 

“ Where is Lotta to-night ? ” 

“ Up-stairs, weaving away on her table-spreads,” 
replied Mrs. Bennett, evidently feeling a satisfac- 
tion in the fact that her daughter could weave such 
difficult pieces. 

“I wonder if she would not like to have some 
quills wound ? I have wound thousands of quills 
for my mother;” and I watched the mother’s face 
with attention, for signs of approval or disapproval. 

“You may go and see,” she said. 

I thanked her, and started up the staircase ; but 
Lotta’ s loom slammed and banged so loudly that 
she did not observe my approach, which was behind 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


29 


her. Standing for a few moments in indecision, I 
resolved to venture; then, moving up noiselessly 
behind her, I made the attempt just as I was dis- 
covered. Lotta protected herself from my designs, 
though I believe she regretted it immediately ; but 
her shuttle went sprawling on the floor. 

“ There, Mr. Clarkson, you have broken my 
thread ! ” remonstrated Lotta, emphasizing her 
words with a curt shake of the head, which threw 
her auburn curls into a thousand curves and angles. 

“No, Miss Bennett, I protest I have not touched 
your thread ; but I will pick up your shuttle, and 
as I can tie a ‘ weaver’s knot,’ ” I said, with a 
_gesture which she did not fail to comprehend, “ I 
will mend it.” 

She motioned assent. I gave her the shuttle, 
and tied the thread. The weaving was resumed 
without delay ; but I managed to hit her elbow, 
and again the shuttle fell, and once more the thread 
was severed. 

“ O Mr. Clarkson, this is a very particular piece ; 
and knots make an awful effect. Please don’t ! ” 

“Pardon me, Miss Bennett; but knots have a 
good effect on some people, if they are properly 
tied. Yes, I fancy this is an important piece. It 


30 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


is very beautiful. How can you weave that pat- 
tern, aifd produce those beautiful figures ? What 
do you call it ? ” 

“ Wellington’s army,” said Lotta, blushing deeply 
under my pun over the knots. 

“ Wellington’s army ! Think of it, — a little 
girl away down here in Winthrop,' weaving damask 
for table-spreads after the pattern of Wellington’s 
army. Why, if Lord Wellington knew it, he would 
promote you to a place of great honor.” I spoke 
this with considerable flourish, but Lotta was a 
match for me. Her reply was less spread-eagle, 
but much keener. 

“ In the first place, Lord Wellington must have 
been dead a good while ; and then, pray tell me a 
position of greater honor than this I now occupy 
at the loom ; ” and she looked at me with an air of 
independence. 

“ I am glad to find one lady,” I answered, “ who 
cannot be promoted. But do tell me whom these 
table-spreads are for ? ” 

Lotta blushed redder than ever, and would have 
resumed her weaving, but I held one end of the 
shuttle. We had met often before, and I had come 
to believe myself hopelessly in love with her, nor 
was I without some slight assurance of her regard. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


31 


“ Lotta,” I continued, and this was the first time 
I had ventured upon so free a use of her name, 
“ I want you to give me one of these table-spreads. 
Will you?” ' 

She smiled sweetly, but her answer was decided. 
“ There are six of them when done, and I mean to 
keep them as long as I live.” 

“ Then, in order to get one of these Wellington 
army table-spreads, a fellow will have to win the 
weaver?” I asked. 

Lotta made no reply, but turned her face from me 
toward the window. The setting sun sent his full 
soft rays into the chamber ; and this little woman 
seated in her loom was to me the most beautiful, 
most interesting picture upon which my eyes had 
ever feasted. I grew wild with the prospect, and 
as quick as lightning stole my first kiss. 

Lotta had not suspected me, and the shock was 
decided. A sharp, sudden little scream rent the 
whole chamber in which the old loom stood, and 
must have reached the ears of Mrs. Bennett below ; 
for it had scarcely died when the maternal voice 
floated up the staircase with the ringing melody 



“ Lotta ! ” 


3 2 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


“ Well, ma ! ” 

“ Come down : you have woven enough for one 
day ; ” and Lotta obeyed promptly. I followed, and 
called on the little weaver, in the presence of her 
mother, to bear testimony to the good quality of my 
quills ; but, as Mrs. Bennett did not require any 
proof beyond my own word, Lotta was spared the 
alternative of telling a story, or giving me away ; 
for I never wound a quill that evening, nor did my 
charmer weave two inches during the whole hour 
in which I assisted her in presiding at the loom. 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


33 


CHAPTER V. 

%> 

A /TY school had been dismissed for the day, and 
teacher and children were walking rapidly 
homeward. A slight shower during the afternoon 
had settled the dust. The air was cool and pleas- 
ant. 

“ Good-evening,” said a gentlemen, who had rap- 
idly driven up behind me. “ Will you jump in, and 
take a short drive, by way of recreation ? I have 
the handsomest three-minute animal here that ever 
raised the dust ; just the blood for such a man as 
yourself.” 

I was soon enjoying the drive with him. 

“ What do you think of her ? ” said Mr. Headly, 
holding the reins in a jockey attitude. 

“ She is both fleet and beautiful ; but are you 
not afraid to drive so fast ? ” I responded in alarm. 

“ She is true as steel,” said Headly ; and, to 
demonstrate his assertion, he shouted at the top of 
his voice, “ Whoa ! ” 


34 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


And the well-trained little animal came to such 
a sudden halt, that we were both thrown against 
the dashboard. 

“You have her under excellent control; and I 
see you are a regular horseman,” was my observa- 
tion, as we reseated ourselves, the beast resuming 
her speed, but at a less ra]5id pace. 

Mr. Headly was a genius in his way, a sort of 
Jack-of-all-trades. At the time of which I write, 
it was difficult to decide whether he was most farm- 
er, merchant, speculator, horse-trader, or politician. 
The more respectable and settled portions of the 
community had come to avoid him as much as pos- 
sible. They did not speak openly against him ; but 
there was a sort of mutual understanding that he 
was the greatest liar, the most unscrupulous trick- 
ster, in the whole county. 

I bethought myself that the company of this 
man was likely to injure my good name ; and I 
said, — 

“ Headly, drive slower, or let me but. There is 
no pleasure in such speed.” 

He drew the animal into a reasonable gait, and 
turned his face towards me with a friendly smile, 
such as only a man can smile for business pur- 
poses 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


35 


“ Mr. Clarkson, I bought this mare last week at 
a great bargain. She is worth two hundred dol- 
lars, if she is worth a cent. Now, do you know, I 
am going to sell you this mare.” 

“That is right, Mr. Headly: when you are going 
to sell me, tell me frankly on the start, and I shall 
be on my guard.” 

“ Sell you the mare, I mean,” and he laughed 
heartily. 

“ I could not buy enough hairs from her tail for 
a respectable set of fiddle-strings,” I said, not de- 
parting in the least from the truth. 

“Yes, you cap, Jean,” giving me a friendly pelt 
on the shoulder. “ I’ll tell you how you can do it. 
In the first place, would you not like to own her ? 
Is she not your fancy ? ” 

“ That I would, and that she is ! ” and I was 
sincere in this remark. 

“ Then I will sell her to you for one hundred 
dollars.” Headly was now in his element. I had 
never made a trade beyond the swapping of a cylin- 
der ^escapement watch in my life, and I afforded 
him pliable material for his skilful deception. 

“But I have not one hundred cents in the 
world;” and my answer was both * earnest and 
honest. 


36 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


“ What of that ? Do you suppose I am afraid to 
trust you ? Your note for six months at legal inter- 
est will buy her ; and you may have possession to- 
night.” Headly’s words were emphasized as only 
a professional horse-trader can. 

I remonstrated that going in debt was a bad 
thing. My father had always avoided it ; and as I 
did not need the animal, excepting for pleasure, it 
would be better to wait until I could pay cash on 
delivery. I thanked him for his confidence in my 
integrity, but declined the offer. 

He now took me through one of his silver- 
tongued discourses on my real needs of a horse. 
My standing in the neighborhood required it. I 
had become popular with the squire. Everybody 
knew I was courting his daughter ; and certainly it 
must be humiliating to both Lotta and myself, that 
all our pleasant drives must be after a borrowed 
horse. 

“Yes,” he concluded, “buy her. It will be the 
master-stroke of your- life. It will give you caste. 
Indeed, you will command a higher salary ; and you 
may have the use of my pasture free for the rest of 
the season, and my harness and buggy at your 
pleasure.” * 


THAT * YOUNG MAN. 


37 


An hour later I signed my first promissory note. 
The amount was one hundred dollars, but it was 
large enough to send a vein of sorrow through my 
whole life ; nor indeed, as I write these lines, nearly 
twelve years later, has the cloud that arose in the 
form of that first promissory note, no larger than a 
man’s hand, but which spread in lowering gloom 
until it darkened all the sky of two lives, been fully 
dispelled. 

Young man, think long and carefully before you 
sign your first promissory note. It will exert an 
influence over your whole life, and perchance bring 
you in sorrow to an early grave. Avoid those who 
have something to sell. 

I found my new purchase something of a pet, 
but more of a responsibility than a pleasure ; but I 
determined to make the best of it. 

The days came and went for more than a week ; 
and I had not, during that time, made my little 
animal serve the purpose for which, more than for 
any other, I had bought her. But the hour of my 
triumph, if triumph indeed there could be in the 
arrangement, came at last. 

“ How do you like my horse, Lotta ? ” I asked, 
as we drove along the river road towards the Lodge 
Hall. 


38 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


Now, Lotta knew what I did not ; viz., that 
three-quarters of the neighborhood had been talk- 
ing in high ridicule of me because of my foolish 
bargain, having set it down as Headly’s last and 
most wicked triumph. 

“ Why did you buy a horse, Jean ? ” 

Lotta was a little sad, and, I declare, her words 
sent a cold chill through and through me; for I 
could reply with no sane reason, and did not there- 
fore venture to reply at all. 

“ Did you need a horse, Jean ? ” 

This question was colder than a river bath, and 
made happiness for me that evening one of the 
impossibilities. * 

We did not speak of the animal again that night, 
and talked but little on any subject. The debate 
in the Lodge, in which I always took a leading part, 
was unusually hot ; and I lost my temper twice, at 
which Lotta must have been deeply mortified. 
There was a mare in every thought, until it be- 
came a perfect nightmare. 

The next day I heard of a man who was passing 
through the neighborhood, and whose destination 
was not far from my father’s house. I lost no time 
in seeing him, and for the small sum of one dollar, 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


39 


which I borrowed from the squire, engaged him to 
lead behind his carriage, and deliver to my father, 
that mare of mine. With the same gentleman I 
sent the following letter : — 

WlNTHROP, Aug. IO, l866. 

Dear Father, — I send you by Mr. Stevens a valuable 
mare. I called her Lotta when I first got her, but have since 
changed her name to Nancy. She is very fast, but steady, 
and will work any way you choose to harness her. Take her 
arid keep her. I wouldn’t own a horse as a gift. Work 
her as hard as you like, drive her as long and as fast as 
you like, but ask no questions. The school goes well. 

Your affectionate son, Jean. 

A few evenings later I sat with the squire’s 
pleasant family at his well-spread evening board, 
and naturally enough the conversation turned upon 
my purchase. 

“And so you’ve bought a horse, Jean,” observed 
Squire Bennett ; which brought the color to Lot- 
ta’s cheeks. 

“ I think there is some mistake, squire. I am 
not the happy possessor of such a treasure,” I 
answered carelessly. 

The Bennett family began a little comedy per- 
formance of mutual glances and suppressed laugh- 


40 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


ing ; but Lotta looked at me in all the radiance of 
hope. 

“Own up, Clarkson, own up. You’ve been 
victimized. Own up like a man!” retorted the 
squire’s eldest son. And now all but Lotta joined 
in a pleasant laugh at my expense. 

“Own up to what?” I demanded in a decided 
tone, which brought the laughing suddenly to an 
end. 

Lotta made an excuse to go for the teapot, but 
left the kitchen-door ajar, and listened attentively 
not three inches from it. 

Now was my time. Things had taken a serious 
turn. I had spoken in a clear, commanding tone, 
and would further assert my manhood at once. 

“ Do you suppose I am fool enough to be swin- 
dled by a horse-jockey? The animal I purchased 
from Headly was raised on a farm less than three 
miles from my father’s. She came into his posses- 
sion through a sheriff’s sale, I believe'. A knowl- 
edge of this came to my father; and he sent me 
a letter requesting me to get her for him, but not 
to exceed a certaih price. I got her twenty-five 
dollars less than his maximum, and shall make that 
sum on the transaction. I sent her down to fa- 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


4i 


ther’s by a Mr. Stevens, who was passing through 
this place three days ago.” 

This little speech had the desired effect, and 
Clarkson stock went up thirty per cent in two 
minutes with the whole family. Lotta returned 
feeling a hundred pounds lighter. A burden had 
fallen from her heart, and a smile of glad relief 
made her face radiant. 

Fall had come. There were a few days of vaca- 
tion between the summer and winter terms, and 
the former was to terminate in a few days. 

One evening, just before the term closed, Headly 
called, and, in an undertone, informed me that he 
was greatly in need of funds, and that, if I would 
give him an order on the trustees for the retirement 
of the note, he would discount ten dollars. 

Could I refuse to discount my own note? Yes, 
I would. Indeed, I must. I had already drawn 
nearly or quite all my salary ; but my tongue never 
failed for apt excuses, the principal of which on this 
occasion was that I would not suffer the trustees 
to know I had gone into debt. 

He withdrew, excusing himself a thousand times, 
and assuring me that it was only because he was 
in a tight place. 


42 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


However, the occasion had a decided effect upon 
my actions ; for I realized, perhaps for the first 
time, that paying a note was not as easy a thing as 
drawing it. I knew it would fall due in the middle 
of my winter term, and throw me into confusion. 
Then and there I decided to spend my vacation in 
raising that hundred dollars, so as to retire my 
note. 

As soon as the term was ended I started for 
Amherstburg, the county-seat, some forty or fifty 
miles distant, calling at home en route , which was 
some twenty miles out of my way. I made the 
journey in the old-fashioned mail-coaches, walking 
such distances as were necessary to make the 
connections. 

On reaching home, I found my father in the 
field, ploughing behind a span. Nancy was in the 
furrow, and seemed to have come down to hard 
work with a good grace. 

“ How do you like Nancy ? ” I inquired, after my 
father had asked a few questions about my welfare, 
and answered as many more concerning home. 

“ She works well ; but how did you come by 
her ? She has been a mystery to the people for 
miles around, these three months,” asked my father 
in an inquiring tone. 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


43 


We sat down together on the beam of the 
plough, and I made a clean breast of it. 

“You can put my name on the note,” he said; 
“ but let this be a lesson to you for life.” 

Two weeks later, after a successful trip to Am- 
herstburg, I returned to Winthrop, where I retired 
my note, scorning to pay less than the full amount 
and the interest down to the day of retirement. 
But the debt was by no means paid. I had made 
a simple transfer of my liability from one man ’and 
one locality to another ; but I had involved my 
father with me, and placed a rolling stone in the 
foundation of my financial Jife which gave way in 
disaster many a time afterwards, as the following 
will plainly show. 


44 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


CHAPTER VI. 



WO years had passed since the events re- 


corded in the previous chapter transpired. 
School-teaching had been laid aside, and its dull 
routine exchanged for the stern realities of mercan- 
tile business ; and now my inexperienced life was 
about to break down under its first commercial crisis. 

Lotta and I had joined hearts and hands for life, 
and were snugly settled in a cosey little home 
in Lower Winthrop, nearly opposite the scfuire’s. 
She had made our home a little paradise with the 
ample dowry so generously settled upon her by 
the squire, and seemed to look into the future with 
the most hopeful anticipations. 

I had set out in mercantile life with every sail 
unfurled. Immense wealth seemed within easy 
grasp ; and I could look forward at the close of my 
nineteenth year, while yet only six months a hus- 
band, to a near future full of affluence and fame. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


45 


Winthrop lay to the north of Hanover, — the 
metropolis of that region, and a seaport city of 
considerable commercial renown, — about a hun- 
dred and twenty miles. A railroad extended from 
Hanover to within thirty miles of Winthrop, which 
has since been carried through that settlement and 
hundreds of miles beyond it. 

The resources of Winthrop and the adjoining 
settlements consisted in live stock, poultry, and the 
cereals indigenous to an extremely northern tem- 
perate zone; and Hanover afforded a ready and 
profitable market for all these. 

For six months my ambition had found a satis- 
factory portion in such pursuits as collecting from 
the farmers of Winthrop and vicinity fat cattle of 
all kinds, marketable sheep and lambs in their sea- 
son, and in the fall months vast quantities of geese, 
turkeys, chickens, butter, cheese, &c. Homespun 
fabrics, such as were woven by the women of that 
section, were also a salable article of merchandise. 

With several strong wagons heavily laden with 
poultry, mutton, butter, &c., and with a large drove 
of fat cattle and sheep, .1 had frequently threaded 
my way over the little mountains that lay ' at a 
moderate elevation between Winthrop and the 


46 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


northern terminus of the railroad upon which the 
journey to Hanover was completed. 

But alas ! the even tenor of this pursuit was now 
about to suffer a fearful spasm. A crash was at 
hand. With me the second and third days of 
September, A.D. 1868, were both black Fridays, 
though I believe neither of them came on that day 
of the week; but black Fridays will come on any 
day in the week to reckless speculation. 

I had reached Hanover on the morning of the 
2d, with a heavy stock, among which were two 
hundred sheep and thirty head of fine cattle. 
With these and other supplies I made a formidable 
appearance at the stock-yards, and drew around 
me the wily butchers, who were of all men in that 
old citadel city the most unscrupulous knaves. 

In a few moments I had struck a bargain with a 
Mr. Sullivan, for the sale of my sheep. He had 
made a careful examination, with the aid of two 
of his faithful assistants, and had offered ten 
shillings or two dollars a head, against my twelve 
and sixpence asked. We agreed to split the differ- 
ence, — a sort of compromise common at the yards, 
— and the bargain was concluded at eleven and 
threepence, or two dollars and a quarter, a head. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


47 


“Fork over the cash, and take them!” I said, 
agreeing to his proposal. 

“ I have but one hundred dollars with me ; but 
you can have the balance at my office, whenever 
you call.” His answer was emphasized by the 
presentation of the one hundred dollars in a sort of 
matter-of-course manner, and I accepted it; but 
made some inquiries of his brother butchers con- 
cerning his financial standing, before the gate to 
the yard in which the sheep were secured, was 
unlocked. Each of my informants vouched for his 
honor and his purse. 

Two hours later I had bargained for the last ox 
in the stall, and was on my way up town. Having 
made the necessary arrangements in the city-mar- 
kets for the sale of my lighter stock, I started out, 
at one o’clock, to look for my debtors. 

Out of one thousand dollars due, I succeeded in 
collecting but forty-eight during the afternoon ; 
and, up to eight o’clock in the evening, Sullivan 
had not put in an appearance at his market-place, 
and the man in charge gave me to understand that 
his master was probably on his usual Wednesday 
night drunk. 

Fifteen minutes later I found him in a low 


4 8 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


brothel, and demanded, in a somewhat excited 
voice, the payment of my claim. He repudiated 
the whole matter, declared I was an impostor, and, 
with the aid of his drunken comrades, gave me 
accelerating assistance through the street door. 

I escaped with no other damage than a wrecked 
paper collar, a torn vest, and a bruised finger, and 
walked away determined to lay for him at his office 
the next morning, which I did ; but he protested 
against my demands, and offered to bring forward 
ten of the most respectable butchers in Hanover 
to prove that I had sold him the sheep on three 
months time. 

A lawyer took ten shillings for advice, but gave 
me no encouraging counsel in return, and only the 
information that I was victimized, and would prob- 
ably gain little and spend much in any process of 
law. 

The others put me off in one way and another, 
but had more regard for my feelings. 

By noon on Thursday I was in the throes of 
my blackest “black Friday.” With two hundred 
dollars in my pocket, and with no possibility of 
swelling that -sum to any considerable amount by 
further collections, I had come to a painful realiza- 
tion of my situation. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


49 


Twelve hundred dollars would be insufficient to 
satisfy the immediate demands which would meet 
me on my return to Winthrop. One or two per- 
sons whom I had put off on former occasions held 
old claims which would swell that amount to fifteen 
hundred dollars. 

I walked out of the busy streets, and away on the 
hill behind the citadel, where I might worry alone 
in quiet meditation over the ruin into which I had 
fallen. 

With careful scrutiny I followed retrospectively 
each step of my commercial history, until I came 
to the false foundation stone, — my first promissory 
note^ for one hundred dollars given to Headly at 
Winthrop nearly two years and a half before. 

But I was not the man to seek vengeance on 
Headly, or to contrive any punishment for Sullivan, 
whose base intrigue on the previous day was more 
than a match for Headly’ s worst designs. 

I laid the fault all at my own door, tried to 
measure the extent of my ruin, and only for the 
thought of Lotta I could have borne all in silent 
fortitude. 

For a moment a desire possessed me, to flee to 
parts unknown. Then the remembrance of Lotta 
brought me to soberness. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


SO 

“ I will go back, and face the worst,” I said, in an 
audible tone, and walked rapidly towards my hotel. 

Saturday evening, with a heavy heart, I started 
from the small town at the northern terminus of 
the railroad to make the journey over the little 
mountains to Winthrop and to Lotta. 

With two able horses, and a strong but light 
buggy, my progress was rapid. 

Not a star relieved the blackness of the night. 
Occasional mutterings of approaching thunder 
gave a solemnity to my sadness, and frequent 
flashes of lightning revealed the gloomy prospect 
of the mountain way. 

The mutterings soon became decided peals, and 
the lightning-flashes grew angular in fierce and 
sharp display, until with the descending torrents 
the night was as some dark, angry corner of regions 
forever cast away, where God pours out his wrath 
in omnipotent fury. 

The horses, blinded by the rain, stunned by the 
fearful revealings of the forked lightnings, and 
maddened by the sharp, quick, heavy peals of thun- 
der, plunged from ditch to ditch, in wild affright. 

From fear and trembling this awful hour gradu- 
ated my feelings into heroic courage ; and in the 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


5 1 

midst of the crashing storm I prayed, not in fear, 
not for the calming of the tempest, — for I had 
troubles that would live after the storm would 
subside, — but I prayed, — 

“ God deliver me from this snare ipto which I 
have so recklessly fallen ! ” 

In those dark hours, alone with God and his 
lightning, I resolved on a bold and fearful course 
of action. My faith could see ultimate victory ; 
and I nerved my courage to bear the temporary 
shame that would result. 


5 2 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


CHAPTER VII. 


HE gray morning light had only thrown its 



first dim uncertain streaks in the eastern 
horizon, when I drove up to my little home in 
Winthrop. 

Lotta met me at the door, partly dressed, for she 
had been awakened by the approach of my car- 
riage. 

“Why, Jean, you look like a fright! What is 
the matter?” and Lotta stood back from me in 
alarm. 

“There is trouble, Lotta, trouble!” and I led 
her to the sleeping-room from whence she had 
come. 

“ Lotta, be firm. Listen carefully. Weigh the 
matter well : you must choose between two things, 
either of which are very painful, and you must 
decide in half an hour.” 

She remained speechless, and looked at me in 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


53 


her most serene composure. I gave her a brief 
but clear account of my affairs, and concluded with 
the following cruel alternative : — 

“ I am resolved to leave in half an hour for Bos- 
ton, and there is no power in the world strong 
enough to change my mind. I have decided. Do 
you know what that means ? You have your choice 
of coming with me, or remaining here.” 

“You have decided; and what would you have 
me do, — go with you, or stay here ? ” she asked, 
restraining her emotions. 

“ I would have you come with me ; but, above 
all, do as you wish,” was my reply. 

“Then,” she said, “ I will go with you at any 
cost. But give me time to go and see ma and pa, 
ai\d bid them good-by.” 

“ That will never do. They must know nothing 
of it, for a knowledge of such a thing would com- 
promise them. Don’t you see ? ” 

“ I see, I see ! ” she answered in tears, wringing 
her hands from anguish. 

“ We can pay all, and return in one year,” I said, 
hoping to strengthen her sinking heart. 

“ But are you not going to leave some explana- 
tion behind us ? What are folks to think ? ” she 


54 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


inquired, drying her tears, and bracing up under 
her sorrow. 

“ We will send a short letter to * The Amherst- 
burg Gazette,’ from Monctown. It will reach its 
destination about the same time we cross the line. 
In that letter I will explain the cause of my failure, 
confess that I could not face my creditors empty- 
handed, and promise to return and pay in full in 
less than two years,” I answered rapidly. 

“ How do you know they will publish the letter, 
Jean ? ” inquired Lotta, now half in harmony with 
my plan. 

“ They are fond of such news, Lotta. They are 
sure to publish it.” 

Lotta saw the point ; and once more the great 
tears flooded her eyes, as she thought of the scan- 
dalous talk people would make. 

In a few moments more a single trunk was 
packed with some of the more staple necessities in 
the way of clothing. This was placed carefully 
under the seat, so as not to attract attention, the 
boot of the carriage pulled closely over it ; then, 
after a hurried lunch, Lotta kissed the kitten good- 
by ; and, with one wild look round the room, we 
closed the door after us in sad and silent departure, 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


55 


and drove quietly away, the sabbath morning light 
breaking languidly from the eastern sky. 

At Monctown I sold my famishing horses. 
They had completed a journey of one hundred and 
fifty miles in forty-eight hours, and were not in a 
condition to demand a high price. 

We spent our first night in Boston at a small 
hotel in Haymarket Square. Lotta had never been 
in a city before, and she had many misgivings con- 
cerning the house. Morning came ; breakfast was 
over, and we returned to our little room for a con- 
sultation. 

Life was now, in a certain sense, all before us. 
We were starting over again, and would profit by 
the past. It was agreed that Lotta’ s advice should 
be heeded more in the future than it had been. 
This concession was made as a partial return for 
her promise that she would bury her sorrows, cheer 
up, and look hopefully ahead. 

“ Now, Jean, let me tell you what to do,” began 
Lotta. “ Don’t go headlong into business, but get 
a situation for a time, until you have become ac- 
quainted with the city. Let us go to a respectable 
but cheap boarding-house somewhere, in a private 
family if possible, and I will try to get into a store. 


56 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


You must let me work too, Jean ; and both togeth- 
er, we will perhaps earn enough in time to go 
home and pay our debts.” 

“ Part of your suggestion I will follow, Lotta,” 
I replied ; “ but you are not to go out to work. 
You shall go home first. What would the squire 
say if he heard such a thing ? ” 

It was agreed that first of all I should get a 
boarding-house, and then a situation. The first 
was easily accomplished at an expense of fifteen 
dollars a week. The second was not so easy. 

In my first attempt, I was victimized by what 
you may call “ intelligence ” offices ; but, if I am 
to name them on the merits of this experience, I 
will call them dens of robbery. 

I spent about half a day among these sharpers ; 
and, as I did not know the city, I relied on the good 
offices of a- hackman, between whom and the em- 
ployment men, I was rendered about fifteen dollars 
less in purse in a few hours. 

Let me briefly relate a part of my misfortunes 
with these fellows : — 

The first to whom I applied took me in with an 
ease and grace such as only a Yankee can display 
on studied occasions. He could see at a glance 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


57 


that it would require definite information to create 
in my mind any adequate conception of what the 
province of an intelligence-office was ; hence he 
managed me in leisurely. 

I gave him a specimen of my handwriting, which 
was a little too cramped, he thought, but had no 
doubt that experience would give it a more open 
and an easier appearance. He asked questions 
about my moral character, all of which I answered 
with a sad recollection. I emphasized my expe- 
rience as a school-teacher, but avoided any comment 
on my mercantile experience. 

I gave him two dollars for the situation, and 
found out at this turn of the business that it was 
another man altogether with whom I was to settle 
concerning the compensation and other particulars. 

Armed with a note of introduction from my well- 
paid informant, I started in search of the street 
and number where I should, as he had assured me, 
come into possession of a permanent and remuner- 
ative position. 

I was received with great courtesy; and, after 
answering some ten or fifteen questions, he decided 
to engage me as his book-keeper, but wanted to 
know if I would have any objections to collecting 
city bills two days out of each week. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


58 

I consented graciously. Then said he, — 

"If you will deposit two hundred dollars as se- 
curity for your honesty, you can have the place at 
twenty dollars a week.” 

We made considerable talk, in which I offered 
to put up one hundred and fifty in the hands of a 
bank ; but he wanted the money in his own pos- 
session, and proceeded to argue the case, when we 
were interrupted by the sudden approach of a tall 
young man, fully as green as myself, and evidently 
from the country, who came in exasperated : — 

“ Say, Mr., by the powers, if you don’t give me 
that two hundred dollars, I’ll take the law of you. 
You swindled me outright, and I can prove it,” he 
roared out as one aggrieved. 

My would-be employer was disconcerted, and led 
the visitor to an adjoining room, returning quickly 
with so smooth an apology, that I was fully per- 
suaded the bar had suffered a heavy loss in the 
errors of his early education. 

I promised to consider the matter, and return 
with a decision ; but I failed in the last item. 

It was probably the sorrows of this victim, thus 
publicly manifested, which enabled me and my last 
one hundred and fifty dollars to continue on 
friendly terms a little longer. 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


59 


I paid others two dollars each for similar posi- 
tions, but could not make any of them fit. At 
length the only genuine aspect of the intelligence 
business appeared. 

For two dollars I received the address of a Han- 
over-street dry-goods dealer, who was in pressing 
need of a clerk. Thence I repaired, and after ten 
minutes’ conversation he offered me six dollars a 
week, which, when compared with the fifteen for 
my board, was altogether out of proportion. 

I returned to Lotta sad* but not discouraged, and 
did all I could to convince her that the prospect 
was good. As I wished to be guided by her judg- 
ment, I submitted for her consideration the posi- 
tion I had been offered at twenty dollars a week as 
bookkeeper and bill-collector, leaving out any men- 
tion of the one hundred and fifty security dodge. 
She approved of it at once, and advised me to take 
it ; and I said that if nothing better could be found 
during the afternoon I would do so, bttt didn’t mean 
a word of it. 

I was now considerably agitated, though I kept 
my feelings carefully from Lotta. The future 
looked dark. 

After dinner I consulted a “ Herald ; ” and, after 


6o 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


scanning the want column, found that a heavy 
Dock-square furniture establishment was in need 
of a grainer. 

About six years before, I had seen a man grain a 
door, which was all the knowledge I possessed of 
the art ; but I was actuated by a happy resolve. 

The time had come to use a little wit. I was in 
the Yankee metropolis, where drones starve, and 
where tact becomes wealthy. Thus meditating, I 
walked rapidly to the establishment. 

“ Wanted a grainer, I see, sir,” I said to the fore- 
man. “ What will you pay an A No. i grainer, 
who is capable of doing all kinds of work ? ” 

“ It is for bedroom sets that we need a man. 
Yet the work is quite particular, and must be care- 
fully done,” he replied. 

“ Well, what do you pay ? ” I demanded. 

“ Twenty dollars a week,” he answered. 

“ Only twenty a week for a first-class grainer ! 
You astonish me ! Guess I will go back to Provi- 
dence, if you are an authority on Boston prices.” 

I had never seen Providence ; but, as that city 
was in the direction opposite to that in which I had 
come, I used the remark for obvious reasons. 

We settled on twenty-two dollars and a half a 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


6 1 


week, and he wanted me to peel off and go to ' 
work that afternoon ; but I demurred, and promised 
to report for duty at seven o’clock the next morn- 
ing, which I did. 


62 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


t 


CHAPTER VIII. 

TT was scarcely past two o’clock when my en- 
gagement as grainer had been completed ; and I 
made* good use of the time remaining^ before I 
should have to meet the difficulties of my new 
position. 

Half an hour later I was on the elevator leading 
to the upper flat of a large Cambridge furniture- 
factory. At the polishing-room I requested the 
foreman to show me to the graining department. 
There I found my man. He was one of those 
genial fellows who are always ready to hear and 
answer a question. 

“I came here for a few lessons in graining. 
Teach me all you can of the art during the next 
three hours, — how to prepare the materials, and 
when and for what and how to use the sponge, the 
blender, the comb, and the brush ; ” and I backed 
the request with a five-dollar bill, which he was 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 63 

forced to accept before half comprehending my 
designs. 

The next morning I appeared for duty; and, 

having purchased a well-daubed pair of overalls 

» 

from my Cambridge teacher, was enabled to pre- 
sent the appearance of an old grainer. 

I spent most of the forenoon in making ready, 
and in the afternoon struck out boldly with sponge 
and blender, turning out some unique patterns of 
maple, butternut, chestnut, ash, walnut, & c. 

The foreman eyed the first set with evident 
satisfaction, and remarked that my designs were 
slightly original. 

Lotta was considerably amused over this ven- 
ture, and half forgot her trouble with the novelty 
of the situation. She had predicted a failure, and 
met me in the door of our room, on my return after 
the first day’s work, with, — 

“ Good-evening, Grainer ! ” 

“ Good-evening, Mrs. Grainer ! ” I replied, with a 
better feeling than I had enjoyed for months. 

After several weeks in the graining business, in 
which I had become an expert on bedroom sets, 
the seven dollars and fifty cents profit on each 
week’s labor was no longer sufficient to hold me. 


6 4 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


Perhaps the first thing that broke the pleasant 
routine of my enjoyment was a remark that had 
been, unguardedly, dropped by Lotta one evening 
after she had been summing up our prospects. 

“ It will take a long time, Jean, to pay our debts 
at this rate. Can’t I get a situation too ? ” she 
asked. 

Early in November I got a day off without the 
knowledge oj Lotta, and spent it in looking for 
something more profitable, but without success as 
it appeared to me at the close of the day. 

In my rounds of observation I came across Bick- 
ford’s knitting - machine establishment, then on 
Bromfield Street. 

These curious knitters were interesting objects 
to me. When a boy I had knit many a pair of 
gloves and mittens ; and the presence of these 
machines awakened within me recollections of 
home and boyhood. I loved to linger among 
them. 

The genial and keen-sighted Bickford observed 
my interest, and soon became my salesman. 

A little later, with a bundle of yarn under one 
arm, and a knitter under the other, I was on my # 
way home. Why I made the purchase, I never 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


65 


knew, but attribute the event to Bickford’s shrewd- 
ness. He sold me the machine by sheer manipula- 
tion. I did not buy it in any large sense ; but his 
receipts were thirty-five dollars larger that day 
because of my visit. 

“ What in the world are you going to do with 
that, Jean ? ” asked Lotta, thoroughly astonished at 
my purchase. 

“ Oh ! I got it for you to amuse yourself with. 
You have no piano, therefore you can knit me 
some socks on it, which will awaken fond recollec- 
tions of gone-by days,” I answered, half out of 
humor. 

“ How much did it cost, Jean ? ” she followed up 
earnestly. 

“ The machine cost twenty-five dollars.” I hesi- 
tated before making the reply. 

“ And the yarn ? ” she continued. 

“ Ten dollars. Why do you ask ? ” I spoke re- 
provingly. 

Lotta turned away, and had a good cry. Here 
was another manifestation of my recklessness. 
With it came to her a fearful recollection of the 
past, and she sobbed outright. 

A friend came in that evening, and remained 


66 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


until a late hour. Lotta and he were old acquaint- 
ances, and they talked eagerly over early associa- 
tions, while, in one corner by myself, I experi- 
mented on the knitter. 

At ten o’clock I jumped from my chair fully 
two feet from the floor, as if struck, and shouted at 
the top of my voice, — 

“ A fortune ! A fortune ! ” 

Lotta and our visitor started up in amazement, 
but I gave them no time for reproof. 

“ Flemming,” I asked excitedly, “ do you want a 
job?” 

“ That I do,” he replied. 

“ Are you much of a travelling salesman ? ” 

“ I reckon I can do that business a little after 
•four years on the road.” 

“ Then consider yourself engaged for three 
months on a salary, — well, say twenty dollars a 
week, and railroad fare.” 

“It is a bargain,” he replied, and reached out 
his hand to confirm it. 

I took his hand, and the bargain was closed. 

Lotta was now half amused, half alarmed, and 
half bewildered, if, indeed, there can be three halves 
to a whole ; and she came over to my chair, and 
said, — 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


67 


“ Why, Jean, this sounds like business.’* 

I left her examining my work, and ran down 
stairs, where I engaged, from the landlady, the use 
of her upper unoccupied and unfurnished rooms 
for three months ; and returning I said, — 

“ Flemming, old boy, come down to the * Herald ’ 
office with me. I want to advertise for some girls.” 

Lotta did not heed my words, so deeply was she 
absorbed trying to solve the particular stitch which 
I had obtained by a change of needles. Bent 
over the knitter, they were both admiring my 
discovery. 

“ Jean, this is perfectly beautiful : how did you 
do it ? ” asked Lotta, turning towards me. 

“No time for explanation,” I said. “ Come, old 
boy, on with your coat.” 

In next morning’s “ Herald ” there appeared in 
the want-column : — 

“ Wanted, twenty girls to work on children’s scarfs. 
Apply at once to ” . 

Three days later there was a buzzing noise in 
the upper rooms of our boarding-house, and Lotta 
was forewoman in a factory for the first time in 
her life. 


68 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


With seventeen girls she managed to tassel the 
scarfs as fast as I, with an expert bobbin-winder, 
could knit them. 

Thus we toiled on, our hearts being refreshed 
from day to day with such telegrams from our trav- 
elling man as, — 

“Send one hundred dozen to . If you can’t turn 

them out faster I might as well quit the road. 

“Flemming.” 

By January the same scarf was being knit in a hun- 
dred places throughout New England, but the sea- 
son was over before my secret had been discovered ; 
and, best of all, Lotta and I were enabled, after dis- 
charging every claim, not only in connection with 
this enterprise, but at Winthrop also, to count two 
thousand dollars, all our own, which we agreed to 
divide equally between us. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


69 


CHAPTER IX. 


T the close of the worsted business I had lit- 



^ tie difficulty in persuading Lotta to make a 
tour of the New England and Northern States with 
me. We talked of going home, but decided that it 
would be much better to wait until we had accu- 
mulated a fortune, and perchance I had, through 
possible achievements, rendered my name, in some 
degree, famous. 

At Hartford and New Haven we had pleasant 
visits ; and after two days at the St. Nicholas and 
three at the Metropolitan, (then in its prime under 
the proprietary of the Lelands), we had seen all 
of New York calculated to please or instruct in the 
winter season. 

While at the Metropolitan we visited Niblo’s, 
where Lotta witnessed a theatrical performance for 
the first time. She accompanied me under protest ; 
but before the curtain dropped on .the second act 
she remarked, — 


70 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


“ Well, I don’t wonder people attend theatres. 
Isn’t it perfectly splendid ? ” 

Albany was a dull city, and therefore the Dele- ‘ 
van kept us but one day. At other places we made 
longer or shorter visits, until, returning to one of 
the most beautiful New England cities, we decided 
to settle. 

Having entered into housekeeping in a small 
way, I began to cast about for some pleasant busi- 
ness of a permanent character. Many opportuni- 
ties offered ; but most of them had a “ skeleton in 
the cupboard,” and I determined not to lose what 
little I had made, by any wild speculation. 

One morning, as Lotta and I sat together at our 
pleasant grate fire, the girl, Minnie, who had 
answered the door-bell, came in, and remarked hur- 
riedly, — 

“ There’s a man at the door, what’s got a paper 
to inscribe for.” 

“Tell him to come in, Minnie,” I replied, laugh- 
ing at her misplaced prefix. 

I was anxious for something to occupy my mind, 
and thought a chat with this canvasser might break 
the dull monotony of idleness. I had been out of 
business for months, and my restless ambition was 
now weary of restraint. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 71 

The solicitor presented his paper in a neat but 
fluent little address, which his employer had prob- 
ably taught him, setting forth its character and 
merits, and closing by assuring me that it would 
eventually find a welcome in every home in the 
State. 

In the middle of his talk my mind was struck 
with an idea, and I heard nothing he said after that ; 
and, when he presented me with his order-book and 
pencil, I awoke as from a dream. 

“ No,” I said, “ I will not subscribe ! ” and dis- 
missed him in short metre. 

“ Good-morning, Lotta. I am going down town 
to see what the day will bring forth ; ” and I started 
away without hinting to her of the large enterprise 
that had already possessed my soul. 

Let us call the city in which we lived New Bos- 
ton, for purposes of location. It was the oldest 
and largest city in one of the New England States. 
With a beautiful harbor, and an extensive merchant 
marine, New Boston had grown into no mean com- 
mercial eminence. 

Her old and famous university gave the place a 
literary cast; and altogether there was no more 
agreeable place to live, from Maine to Georgia. 


7 2 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


The city contained four daily besides several 
weekly newspapers, and literature of all kinds was 
duly encouraged. I looked the field over, carefully 
as I thought, measured my fitness for the task, 
correctly as I hoped, and then decided. 

“I shall call it the ‘Sunday Morning Gazette/ 
Lotta ; and we will send a copy of the first number 
to the squire. You must compose a poem for it.” 

I was sitting at our table with a sheet of double 
medium before me, marking out the lines where the 
column-rules were to come, adjusting the width of 
the columns, and otherwise deciding on the form 
and size of my new venture. 

“ O Jean ! I wish you would take my advice. I 
feel somehow that you will lose every cent you 
put into it,” and Lotta begged hard in opposi- 
tion. 

“ Now, Lotta, what do you know about the 
newspaper business ? and why will you presume to 
advise me on such a matter ? ” I retorted angrily. 

“ It is because neither of us know any thing 
about the business, that I oppose it, Jean,” she 
answered, in a tone of kindness. 

“ Lotta, I have decided : do you know what that 
means ? All the contracts for the "printing are 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


73 


made, and the first number is to appear one week 
from Sunday next.” 

My reply was in a decided accent, and Lotta felt 
its power. 

“I am afraid that will of yours will ruin you 
some day, Jean,” Lotta said in a tone of resig- 
nation. 

“Jean Clarkson, editor and proprietor, vol. i., 
No. i. That sounds about right, don’t it, Lotta ? ” 

“It sounds funny enough, Jean. They will think 
you crazy at home when they read it.” 

“ Hush ! listen to my salutatory, and tell me 
what you think of it ; ” and I read : — 

“ SALUTATORY. 

“With the issue of the first number of ‘The Sunday- 
Morning Gazette’ we desire to announce to the people of New 
Boston and vicinity, that we have determined to supply a long- 
felt want in the field of journalism, by giving to the people 
at the close of each week, in a neat and acceptable form, a 
journal that shall contain in some degree of elaboration, not 
only a summary of the important news, and a collection of 
the best contributions to science and art, but an able and 

lucid exposition of all questions in politics, religion, com- 

/ 

merce, agriculture, and kindred subjects, both local and na- 
tional, in which undertaking we hope to merit the hearty 


74 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


support of an intelligent and discriminating public, and to 
which we cheerfully and enthusiastically bring a journalistic 
experience of many years.” 

“ How do you like the first sentence, Lotta ? ” I 
asked before reading farther. 

“ It is long enough, Jean, but I don’t like it,” she 
replied after a short pause. “ Please read me the 
last clause again.” 

“ And to which we cheerfully and enthusiastic- 
ally bring a journalistic experience of many years,” 
I repeated. 

“ Is that truthful, Jean ? ” asked Lotta. 

“ Pshaw ! you ought to know that a newspaper 
is the last place in the world in which to look for 
the truth.” 

“ Then I am all the more opposed to your hav- 
ing any thing to do with the business,” she said 
impatiently. 

I did not read the remainder of my salutatory to 
Lotta, nor was she in the least anxious to hear it. 

My little parlor was now turned into a sanctum, 
much to Lotta’ s annoyance ; and as we lived near 
the business centre I managed to dispense with the 
luxury of an office. My paper was printed at a 
down-town printing-house ; and I used one of the 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


75 


unoccupied rooms in the same building, granted me 
out of a consideration for my patronage, for mailing 
purposes and supplying newsboys, neither of which 
were extensive operations. 

One forenoon, as I was poring over my ex- 
changes, Minnie announced a lady who wished to 
see the editor. The caller was shown into my 
sanctum, and presented me the following note : — 

New Boston, April 7* 

To the Editor, &c. — This will introduce Miss Speed- 
well, who would like to show you a poem. I have read por- 
tions of it, and cannot speak too strongly in its praise. It 
may be found too long for one issue, but it could be pub- 
lished in instalments. 

Respectfully yours, 

James Hancock. 

Mr. Hancock had recently been defeated for 
Congress, but was a prominent and popular lawyer 
of Considerable wealth. 

Miss Speedwell had preserved her single-blessed- 
ness for more than fifty years, living in peace^ and 
quiet with an inherited competency, and with no 
extraordinary characteristics save an unfortunate 
desire to benefit mankind with the products of her 
poetical genius. 


76 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


On this occasion she unrolled a package, handing 
me the contents, — about three hundred closely- 
written foolscap pages of manuscript, — a poem 
entitled “ The Orphan Girl.” 

Scanning the manuscript hurriedly, I remarked 
that she had hit upon a fine title, as the words 
“ orphan girl ” would awaken a deep vein of sym- 
pathy ; and I felt, though I did not openly express 
it, ^ that she must needs create sympathy if the 
poem ever saw the light. 

“ I have copyrighted it, reserving all rights,” 
she remarked, no doubt in hope of setting aside 
any fraudulent designs I might have entertained 
of infringing on her poetical rights. 

She left the poem ; and I agreed to examine it, 
or, rather, mentioned that Mrs. Clarkson, upon 
whose poetical genius I relied in such matters, 
would look it over, and give her an answer in the 
course of two or three days. 

Lotta was present, and shook her head at me 
threateningly. She had but little sympathy with 
my enterprise, and read her Bible much more than 
my paper. 

Thus the scenes came and went, one after another, 
for months. I enjoyed the business, but was daily 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


77 


sinking money. The treasury was almost empty, 
when I resolved on a bold expedient to save the 
journalistic ship. 

I had dabbled with poems and essays until it 
became evident there was no money in that side 
of the business ; and I now resolved to strike out 
into politics. 

The Hon. John Henderson, son of Hon. Greene 
Henderson, a prominent resident of the Waterville 
Valley, not twenty miles distant, was an aspirant 
for Congress. His father had been a useful man 
in his day, but was now old and superannuated. 
The son was vain but ambitious. 

I visited this would-be Congressman, and repre- 
sented, that, owing to the wide circulation and high 
moral character of the “ Gazette,” he would do well 
to secure its influence. 

Having a desire to see him elected, based on 
principle, (?) I was willing to work editorially for a 
successful issue of the contest — for a fair com- 
pensation. 

After considerable talk, we agreed that I should 
put forth his name as a candidate ; and I was to 
receive five hundred dollars on the appearance of 
the first article, five hundred more when he was 


78 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


nominated, and five hundred more if he was 
elected. 

These were large figures, considering the influ- 
ence of my paper, and the terms of payment were 
reasonable ; but the contract was only verbal. 

Lotta shook her head apprehensively at the 
whole story; but I persisted, and the paper ap- 
peared with a flaming editorial, in which the Hon. 
John Henderson was held forth as a fit man for 
Congress, in strong colors. 

Two days after its appearance I received the 
following note in answer to mine for a remittance 
of the first instalment. It ran thus : — 


Waterville, Oct. — — . 

Jean Clarkson, Esq. 

Dear Sir, — I regret to say that I am unable to respond 
favorably to your request for aid to your valuable journal. 
Other demands more imperative make it impossible. Wish- 
ing you success, 


I remain sincerely yours, 

John Henderson. 


This set me into a foaming rage. Henderson, it 
was plain, intended to go back on the whole 
arrangement. My temper could no longer restrain 
its force, when Lotta exclaimed, — 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


79 


“ There, I fold you ! ” 

And it is possible I used language unbecoming 
the husband of a Christian lady. 

I meditated an hour or so when a plan came into 
my mind ; and, as it entered in the hour of wrath, I 
will credit Satan for suggesting it. 

It was now evident that I should outwit my base 
deceiver. The plan was not altogether right, but I 
have never wholly repented thereof. 

Evident indeed it was, that, unless overcome in 
some way, the blow would sink my literary ship ; 
and I resolved not to go down in a political storm 
without revenge. It was therefore a time for bold 
action. 

I changed the head-line of my journal, and called 
it “ The Saturday Evening Messenger,” vol. i., No. 
i. In a new salutatory, I marked out a new field, 
and closed hoping to merit greater success than 
had my late contemporary “ The Gazette,” which, 
as I had been informed, had perished. This journal 
was ostensibly published by the “Messenger” 
Company, and no editor was announced. 

In this issue I said all the evil things of Hen- 
derson that had ever been rumored against him 
from his boyhood. Sending him a marked copy 


8o 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


of the paper, I wrote a note in whifch I charged 
him squarely with his deception, and gave him his 
choice, to fulfil his agreement, or take the conse- 
quences. 

On the following day he paid me a visit. I was 
firm and unrelenting. Finally he offered to hand 
over the first instalment, providing I would let him 
off. This was agreed to ; and ever after, I doubt 
not, Henderson has fulfilled his newspaper engage- 
ments promptly. 

I appealed to my wife, that my plan had been 
only fair since he had so basely deceived me ; but 
she protested that I had sinned, as I had returned 
evil for evil. 

“The Gazette” did not survive, neither did 
“ The Messenger ” re-appear ; and there was no 
undue excitement or display at their burial. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


8l 


CHAPTER X. 

TT was now more than a year since “The Ga- 
zette” had been laid away in an early grave. 
Lotta in company with a cousin had gone to spend 
the summer with her parents at Winthrop. 

She had spent many fruitless hours in trying to 
persuade me to accompany her, but to no result. 

" When I have twenty thousand, and not before,” 
was my most pliable answer to her entreaties. 

We were to meet again in the fall, on her return 
to New Boston ; but meanwhile I was to stem the 
tide alone. 

As I could now move about at less expense, I 
proposed in Lotta’s absence to visit and prospect 
some of the cities in the near West. 

A bright early spring evening found me in Troy, 
N.Y., where, at the American House, I met three 
New Boston parties who were returning from a 
Western tour. 


82 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


They were young men of rather doubtful habits, 
yet of good standing in society. Their prestige in 
the latter respect was due to the good name of 
their parents, rather than to any good qualities of 
their own. 

I had never sown any wild oats up to that even- 
ing. A youth full of energetic struggles after 
qducation, a husband at nineteen, and the faithful, 
devoted, Christian Lotta to guide my steps, I had 
walked morally in wisdom’s ways up to that hour. 

We spent some ten days together, in which per- 
haps the most wicked of our deeds was the foolish 
expenditure of money. 

Each of my companions ran out of funds, and 
borrowed of me in turn, until, to accommodate the 
last, I equally divided my remaining fifty dollars. 
They were, however, looking for a draft in an early 
mail ; and I was not the man to deny them. 

I hate the memories of this Troy affair, and will 
pass lightly over it. It left me with eight dollars, 
and a hotel-bill which was not paid till a later date, 
as we shall see. 

My New Boston friends had left. Fortunately 
for them, they had through tickets. Before leav- 
ing, they agreed to remit my dues to Chicago, but 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 83 

failed to perform ; and this was my first grand 
lesson that companions in sin cannot be trusted. 

Alone with my eight dollars, I wandered out to 
Oakwood Cemetery, — one of the most beautiful 
spots on the continent. There, alone with the 
gravestones, I composed a little poem to Lotta, 
which she still holds among other relics of days 
forever gone. 

My eight dollars carried me to Buffalo. When 
I arrived it was early dawn, and I possessed nei- 
ther money nor baggage ; nor had I, as I then 
thought, a single friend or acquaintance in the city. 

This statement is hardly correct ; for I stepped 
from the train with a single quarter in my 
pocket, but had not gone two blocks on Main 
Street before I came up to a blind man faithfully 
turning away at a hand-organ, grinding out “Yan- 
kee Doodle.” 

The presence of this enterprising Italian, at such 
an early hour, filled me with a peculiar inspiration. 
Before fully realizing what I was about, that last 
quarter fell musically upon the tin plate, and the 
thankful organist bowed me a “ God bless you ! ” 

“A fit subject for God’s blessing, surely!” I 
thought, as I walked up town. 


84 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


Entering the leading hotel, I washed, combed, 
and brushed, all without incurring liabilities be- 
yond my means. Then, with a wishful glance into 
the breakfast-hall, I turned my steps into the 
street, hungry and penniless, but not discouraged. 
There was a romance in the situation which lent a 
charm even to hunger. 

“ I have never had such an experience ; but 
surely I can survive the want of a single breakfast, 
and before noon something will turn up.” Thus 
soliloquizing I walked slowly, not knowing where. 

At ten o’clock I rang the bell at a large and well- 
appointed Delaware Avenue boarding-house, and 
was conducted to the parlor, where a short, thin- 
skinned little man came in, and offered to hear my 
errand. 

In a few words I told him frankly my situation : 
that I had seen better days, that my baggage was 
detained at Troy, and that my last quarter had 
been honorably expended. 

“ But,” I concluded, “ give me the cheapest room 
you have in the house, and by Saturday night I 
shall have earned the money. to meet the bill.” 

“ We cannot accommodate you, sir. Our terms 
are invariably cash in advance,” he answered, lead- 
ing the way to the door. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


85 


It required a little bracing up of the moral and 
physical nerves to repel this ; but I braced up and 
walked out, remembering that the terms of my 
journal consisted of a part of his reply, “term§ 
cash, invariably in advance,” but in my case the 
motto had not been strictly adhered to. 

Half a block farther on, but on the opposite side, 
I ventured to make another attempt. 

A kind, good-natured-looking lady of about forty 
showed me several rooms, but I managed to be a 
little displeased with them all. 

“ I have come to take a position as local editor 
on one of your leading daily papers, and wish a 
nice home-like room,” I said in an independent 
manner. 

“ Well,” she replied, “ I have a magnificent suite 
on the lower floor, but I shall have to charge you 
twelve a week.” 

I followed her to those rooms, and threw myself 
into an easy-chair with a princely dignity. 

“ These will do : what are your meal hours ? ” 
for I was hungry. 

The bargain over, I straightened up, and said, — 

“ I will go to the depot for my trunk, and will re- 
turn in season for dinner. Shall I pay you a week’s 
board now ? ” 


86 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


“ Oh, no ! at the end of the week will be quite 
satisfactory, sir,” she replied, with an expression of 
womanly courtesy. 

One hour later I was made sub city-editor of the 
foremost daily journal in the city, to relieve an old 
friend, whom I unexpectedly met, and who desired 
to take a short vacation. 

After the necessary information had been given 
me by the departing editor, and just before he with- 

4 

drew, I took him one side, and whispered, — 

“ See here, Foster, I am strapped, and ” — 

“ Not another word : how much ? ” and he un- 
rolled a small package of tens as he urged his 
answer. 

“ Ten dollars till Saturday.” 

He gave me fifteen, and was out of the room be 
fore I had time to thank him. 

At one o’clock, or a little after, I took a hearty 
dinner at my new boarding-house, and then, with- 
drawing to my rooms, I beckoned the good landlady 
to follow. Closing the door after me, I explained 
how my trunks had (not) been carried on to Chica- 
go by mistake, and added that it was embarrassing 
to be in a strange boarding-house without bag- 
gage ; and, holding out the fifteen dollars, pressed 
her to take out a week’s board. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 87 

She promptly declined, and assured me that it 
was entirely unnecessary. 

“ I am. perfectly satisfied if you are/’ she said : 
“ your appearance is all I want. I wish I had every 
room in the house filled with such men. Make 
known your wants freely, and I will try to make 
you feel at’home ; ” and thus the little woman lec- 
tured me into inexpressible happiness. 


88 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


CHAPTER XI. 

T HROUGH this short spell of “ subbing” at 
Buffalo, I managed to send for and receive 
my trunk, and complete the journey to a well-known 
Western metropolis. 

On reaching my destination, I wrote to Lotta, 
picturing the grandest prospects, and pointing her 
to a near future greatness that would more than re- 
dress all our woes. Yet at the same time I had but 
four cents in the world, and pot so much as the 
faintest promise of any thing tangible ; but I had a 
courage which knew no such thing as failure. 

This was no time for doubt or trembling, but an 
hour for bold resolve. A mere situation at twenty 
or thirty a week would not satisfy me ; and, if it 
would, such could not have been easily obtained. 

My slight newspaper experience was now to be 
thoroughly tested. Light seemed to be dawning 
through the windows of hope looking in that direc- 
tion. 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


89 


With a fondness for the profession, and the rec- 
ollections of my victory over Henderson fresh in 
memory, I made another attempt newspaper-ward. 

After climbing three flights of stairs, and making 
my way into the dingy editorial department of 
“ The Daily Paragraph,” I thus introduced myself 
and the subject nearest my heart to the editor and 
proprietor, of whom and whose business I had 
already learned much : — 

“ Good-day, Mr. Danelson. My name is Clark- 
son. I am from the East; and with some news- 
paper experience I come this" way to cast my lot 
among you.” 

Mr. Danelson looked me over ; and, relieving a 
chair near at hand of a bundle of exchanges, offered 
me a seat, without a response of any kind. 

“ Excuse me for troubling you ; but an acquaint- 
ance here directed me to you for the information I 
need, knowing, as he said, that you were well posted 
concerning the wants and needs of every journal 
in the city.” 

A smile of satisfaction irradiated his long, hag- 
gard face, at this inspirational compliment. I con- 
tinued, — 

“Now, excuse me, but I am a live man, and 


9 ° 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


understand the newspaper business to a T ; and I’ll 
tell you what I want to find. Tell me, if you please, 
where there is a journal in this city with the 
bare possibilities of success before it, but with the 
difficulties of an empty cash-drawer, a poor 'adver- 
tising patronage, and a good list of pressing debts all 
around it. Pardon my blunt way of putting things, 
Mr. Danelson, but I wish to offer my services to 
such an establishment on these terms : fifty dol- 
lars a week salary if I bring in one hundred a 
week for the paper ^on my own work, and nothing if 
I come short of this amount.” 

Tknew right well that I had already found the 
newspaper establishment which I was describing, 
and had come to it fully posted regarding its finan- 
cial condition. 

Danelson was a man of curious characteristics. 
Being deeply in debt, he had grown nervous over 
the continual dunning which besieged his office, 
and was ripe for just such an offer. 

He turned his face towards me with a curious 
smile, and asked, — 

“ How do you propose, to bring to any newspaper 
one hundred dollars a week, Mr. Clarkson ? ” 

“ I understand my business,” was all the reply I 
made. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


9 1 


He took in my meaning at once, and withdrew 
with me to a private office, where we made con- 
siderable talk, and whence I emerged two hours 
later, as managing editor of “ The Daily Paragraph,” 
at a salary of fifty dollars a week, payable by my- 
self on the conditions before mentioned. 

I assumed charge with unusual display, and 
ordered the foreman of the composing-room, who 
was a son of the proprietor, to change the “ make- 
up,” which order he was forced to observe without 
any good reasons for the change, which he desired 
me to give. 

Mr. Danelson wished to give me a fair trial, and 
humored my most imperious orders, giving all about 
the office to understand that I must be obeyed. 

Chapman and Gorham were the proprietors of 
two of the most elegant “ sample-room ” establish- 
ments in the metropolis ; and I discovered that the 
faro-departments of these concerns paid large but 
unlawful dividends. 

An Eastern gentleman stopping at my hotel had 
been victimized and robbed of three hundred dol- 
lars in one of these places, and, although half as 
much to blame as his deceivers were, was quite 
ready to expose their villany ; and through his kind 


9 2 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


offices I was enabled to gain admittance to several 
of these dens. 

Here I witnessed some of the sharpest transac- 
tions of which the human intellect, supported by 
Satanic inspiration, is capable. 

More than twenty of the scenes of that night, 
which came to my knowledge, are worth describ- 
ing, but I will venture but one of these briefly : — 

A middle-aged man had come to the city by a 
train arriving at eight o’clock, p.m. ; and with only 
a light valise he started to walk from the depot to 
his hotel, in preference to riding. A sharper met 
him with a familiar, — - 

“ How do you do, Gov. Hall ? Why, you are a 
stranger in these parts ! ” And, acting out his 
words, he shook the stranger’s hand warmly. 

“ Beg your pardon, sir. I am not Gov. Hall : you 
are mistaken.” And he withdrew his hand in em- 
barrassment. 

The sharper excused himself, but could not easily 
satisfy his mind that two men could look so much 
alike. His apparent mistake offered occasion for a 
little further conversation, in which he learned all 
he could about the stranger, his name, residence, 
and the names of certain parties residing there. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


93 


They parted ; and the stranger walked on to- 
wards his hotel, when, a few minutes later, he was 
accosted by another sharper, who, having been 
posted by the first one, not only knew his name, 
but much which, and to all appearances, evidenced 
that he was an old acquaintance. He began, — 

“ Good-evening, Capt. Hart. Glad to see you. 
When did you leave New Britain ? ” 

He managed to convince the captain that he was 
an old friend ; said he was on his way to St. 
Louis; and then pulled out a lottery-ticket, with 
this remark, — 

“ Here is a lottery-ticket which I bought from a 
fellow out of a joke, nearly a year ago, in New Brit- 
ain ; and I am told this evening that I have drawn 
five hundred dollars, and am on my way to the 
office where it is to be paid. Would you care to 
come over to see whether or not it is real or a 
sham ? ” 

The captain consented readily. In a room ad- 
joining the faro-hall, the two men presented them- 
selves, and the sharper handed in his ticket. 

A clerk (for such he appeared) brought down a 
ponderous ledger, and looked for the number of the 
ticket, through a pair of glasses, in a dignified man- 


ner. 


94 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


Presently he lifted his spectacles, and, turning to 
his customer, remarked, — 

“ You have drawn five hundred and one dollars 
and he proceeded to count out the money, and man- 
aged to be one dollar short. 

The apparently lucky man was about to call it 
square, when the clerk handed«down the dice, and 
intimated that it was one dollar a toss, and that if 
he cared to take his remaining dollar in that way 
he might possibly draw another hundred. 

He consented, and won fifty dollars more ; but 
let me tarry not to describe further. The captain 
was first excited, then charmed. He tried his luck 
once, twice, thrice ; and finally discovered himself a 
victim, his last dollar wickedly forfeited. 

In due time the columns of “ The Paragraph ” 
blazed out an expost of these fearful dens, called 
upon the city fathers and the police to suppress 
them, and signified an intention to continue the 
assault until the evil should be suppressed. 

Three different concerns in the city each found 
enough in the article to believe themselves the as- 
sailed ; and thus unexpectedly we killed three birds 
with one stone. 

The experiment netted the office four hundred 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


95 


and fifty dollars ; and I demanded four and a half 
weeks’ salary in advance, to which Danelson yielded 
for my encouragement. 

Let not the reader suppose this was blackmail. 
No, no ! The money was paid for advertising (?) 
an extra brand of old rye at wholesale ; and the ad- 
vertisement was to 'be continued in each case until 
the several amounts were exhausted, at regular 
rates. The payment in advance was a mere mat- 
ter of friendship superinduced by our not over-com- 
plimentary article on “ Gambling-Dens.” 

As this four hundred and fifty dollars were the 
only receipts of the week, and as, under my con- 
tract with Danelson, this sum was equally divided, 
I could not help feeling that we were, in no small 
sense, equal partners ; and this thought gave me a 
desire to be sole owner. 

Danelson was an unscrupulous fellow, and I 

knew it. I did not want another experience like 

«• 

that with the gamblers, and preferred to sail in a 
calmer and safer sea ; and so I studied long and 
earnestly to become owner of the paper, and rid the 
establishment of its rightful heir. 

No answer came to relieve my cravings, until 
with the information that Theodore Shintzenstein, 


9 6 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


a wealthy German citizen, desired to become 
mayor ; then came a happy thought. 

There could be no slipshod work in this transac- 
tion, with any hope of success. Shintzenstein was 
a shrewd man, and knew well how to make the 
best use of his means. Any enterprise to which 
he lent his assistance must either be for his own or 
the public’s good ; but withal he had a kind heart, 
and knew well how to appreciate and return a 
favor. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


97 


/ 

CHAPTER XII. 

TV /TY plans once mature, I put up the name of 
Shintzenstein as a candidate for mayor, and 
succeeded in publishing a long list of respectable 
signers to a petition calling on him to come forward 
as a candidate. 

Thus for two weeks I worked hard and faithfully, 
and did much to increase his popularity. He was 
a man whose reputation would bear advertising. 

Considerable time passed in this way before we 
met. At last he determined to see with his own 
eyes the man who was volunteering this service, 
and he paid me a visit. 

I was delighted to see him, but wore an air of 
strange independence which puzzled him. He sub- 
scribed for the paper, paying one year in advance. 
But this did not satisfy him ; and, as he withdrew, 
he slipped a one-hundred-dollar bank-note in the 
hand he pressed. 


9 8 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


I passed it over to Danelson, and requested 
another week’s salary. He laughed in a curious 
undertone, but complied. 

Here was no slight evidence of the success of 
my plans. I was marching to the heart of Shintz- 
enstein through his generous impulses, and the 
force that impelled me was faithful service. 

With careful manipulation I progressed step by 
step, witnessing daily manifestations of my prog- 
ress. 

At this juncture, an event transpired which set 
the wheels of fortune turning rapidly in my favor. 
The editor who had been discharged to make room 
for me had purchased a number of outstanding 
claims against the paper, to which he had added 
his own, and entered suit. A judgment had been 
granted, and the morning had come for its execu- 
tion. 

Danelson had kept a knowledge of this event 
from me, for a purpose. He probably did not care 
to trust me with such information, and his meas- 
urement of me in this instance was half correct. 

“ What is going to be done, Mr. Danelson ? ” I 
asked excitedly. 

“ I have a friend who will buy the office in,” he 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


99 


answered in a whisper ; for the deputy-sheriff had 
already entered. . 

I blamed myself furiously that all this could 
have transpired under my very nose without my 
knowing it, but flew over to Shintzenstein’s ; and, 
in fifteen minutes, he had authorized me to bid as 
high as fifteen hundred, saying he would hand me a 
check for the amount if I succeeded. 

I returned to the office to find the sheriff stand- 
ing on my table, the quill pens smashing under his 
number-ten boots, and crying fitfully, — 

“ Three hundred I’m bid ; three hundred I’m 
bid ; three hundred, three hundred ! ” 

It was raised to five hundred, five fifty, six, and 
six fifty ; and it soon became evident that Danel- 
son’s financial friend had a formidable opponent 
in the ex-editor’s right-hand man. 

Finally the latter bid nine hundred ; and Danel- 
son’s friend withdrew, saying he could not risk any 
more. The excited proprietor walked the floor in 
great excitement. 

“ Nine hundred, third and last time ; going, 
and” — 

“ One thousand ! ” I said in a decided voice. 

All eyes were turned towards me. The sheriff 


IOO 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


was astonished, and Danelson grew impatient, and 
asked, — 

“ What does this mean ? ” 

“ I mean to save your paper.” 

“ For me ? ” he demanded in a high pitch. 

“ No : for Fred and myself.” 

Fred was his son, the foreman before referred 
to, an open-hearted, honest young man, who had 
become my most intimate friend. 

Danelson resigned himself, and, at his son’s 
advice, walked away. 

“One thousand, third and last time ; and sold — 
to whom ? ” shouted the official auctioneer. 

“To Jean Clarkson,” I responded. “The money 
is ready as soon as the papers can be made out.” 

Jean Clarkson & Co. were the proprietors of 
“ The Paragraph ” thereafter ; and, under that 
management, its patronage soon became self-sus- 
taining. We failed in electing Shintzenstein, but 
had been well paid for faithful service. 

“The Paragraph” finally became a fixed institu- 
tion, established on a paying basis ; and I was 
about to start to meet Lotta, that she might enjoy 
the happy lot with me. 

Arrangements had been completed for furniture, 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


IOI 


and a lease signed for a beautiful little house in 
the West Division, when on that eventful Sunday- 
night, memorable to all the world, the blasting 
flame swept into ruin, not only every vestige of 
“The Paragraph,” but three-quarters of a mighty 
commercial metropolis. 


102 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


CHAPTER XIII. 

LL night long, and part of the following day, 



^ with many a thousand more, I marched be- 
fore the on-sweeping, all-consuming flames of that 
mighty conflagration. The cries of alarm, groans 
of sorrow, and shrieks of dying mortals, of that 
awful night, still live in my soul, never to be 
effaced. 

Monday noon I ate my soup in St. Ann’s Church, 
with thousands, all of whom were penniless and 
homeless. The scenes of the previous evening had 
forced the conclusion upon me, that but little in 
this life was abiding. 

On Sunday I had within my control the means 
of an apparently permanent livelihood. All had 
vanished in a few brief hours ; but around me were 
so many, who, being left in the same condition, 
were less able to overcome it, that I no longer 
lamented. 


THAT YOUNG MAN 103 

“ How can I turn this mighty calamity to ac- 
count ? ” was a question which I had put to myself, 
and satisfactorily answered, before the fire had 
driven me across the North River on the previous 
night ; and I had already entered upon the execu- 
tion of a plan with that end in view. 

In the midst of the crowd I felt a friendly tap 
upon my shoulder. I turned, and grasped the hand 
of Fred Danelson, my late partner, whose face had 
been badly singed in an encounter with the flames. 

“ God bless you, Fred ! I was never so glad to 
see a man in my life ; ” and I held his hand, with 
deep emotion, restraining my tears. 

There were men weeping that day, whose eyes 
had never before given such evidence of the heart’s 
unrest. 

“ We are all saved, thank God for that ! but we 
are all penniless, homeless, and discouraged,” re- 
sponded Fred, weeping like a schoolboy under 
severe punishment. 

“ Brace up, old boy,” I said, still holding his 
hand, but leading him out of the crowd, that we 
might not hear the sighs and groans, or witness the 
tears, of the sorrowing multitude. 

“ Fred,” I continued, “ I will give you twenty-five 


104 THAT YOUtfG MAN. 

dollars a week and railroad fare, for eight weeks, to 
do a certain honorable work for me ; and I want 
you to start to-day : will you engage ? ” 

“ I am at your command on easier terms,” he re- 
plied. “ But what is to be the nature of my work ? ” 

I posted him : — 

“ You are to leave town this afternoon, and make 
a trip to the East. Your progress will be slow, and 
on this wise : Announce me to lecture in to- 

morrow evening. You will be able to do all the 
advertising yet this evening, as you reach there by 
four o’clock. Leave late in the evening, or early 
in the morning, for the next town, and announce 
me for that place for Wednesday evening ; and so 
on every evening in the week. Zigzag latitudinally 
as you progress, so as to take in a wide range of 
towns, and keep in daily communication with me 
by telegraph. Don’t wait fpr mail communication. 
Here is a circular, which print as a dodger in each 
town, flooding the streets with them ; also* publish 
it in all the papers ; and, when occasion will admit, 
have it read from the pulpits. You will be able to 
secure churches in some places, perhaps, where 
there are no halls. Leave all bills for me to pay, 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


io 5 

even your hotel expenses. And here is an order 
that will enable you to act on this advice.” Thus 
ended my instructions. 

This venture had been suggested to me during 
the awful night previous, by some friendly spirit ; 
and I had been mentally studying my lecture for 
twelve hours, in the very presence of the ghastly 
scenes which I was to describe. 

The letter of introduction for my advance agent 
had already been written. It ran as follows, — 

Amid the F lames, Oct. 9, . 

To Hall Agents , Hotel Proprietory , Printers , Publishers , 
and all whom it may concern. 

All debts contracted by the bearer, Mr. Danelson, in any 
way in behalf of my lecturing tour, will be paid by me on 
my arrival. Render him all the assistance you can. 

In haste, 

Jean Clarkson, 

Late Editor and Proprietor “ Daily Paragraph .” 

The circular or advertisement, which had* also 
been prepared to save time, ran as follows : — 

Ruined Chicago — a Lecture ! 

The people of will be glad to learn, that on 


io6 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


evening, in the hall, Mr. Jean Clarkson, a well-known 

Chicago journalist, and a lecturer of marked eloquence and 
ability, will deliver his most thrilling discourse, entitled 
“ Chicago in Flames.” The learned and distinguished speaker 
will portray the whole disaster in the full strength of his 
wonderful talents. In the midst of the flames from the 
commencement to the end of the conflagration, he will speak 
from personal observation. The hall will no doubt be 
crowded. General admission, twenty-five cents ; reserved 
seats, twenty-five cents extra. The lecture commences at 
7.30, p.m., precisely. Mr. Clarkson comes to us with the fol- 
lowing strong indorsements. 

Here followed recommendations from ex-govern- 
ors, mayor, Congressmen, and clergymen, presi- 
dents of universities, &c., each of whom I had 
fortunately met during the morning, and from 
whom I had received at my earnest solicitation 
these much-needed testimonials. 

One of these recommendations was so strong, 
so unique, and so characteristic of the haste and 
excitement of the hour, that I give it here as a 
“ relic of the Chicago fire : ” — 

“ Our distinguished and beloved citizen; Mr. Jean 
Clarkson, a journalist distinguished alike for his 
wit, scholarship, and talents, goes to you on this 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


107 

lecturing tour with our most profound sympathy. 
Extend to him a hearty welcome.” 

I omit the signature to this indorsement, not 
because the distinguished statesman who granted 
it would object to have it known that he indorsed 
my project, but because he wrote it, half according 
to my own dictation, while the flames were break- 
ing forth in mad fury within a hundred feet of him, 
and because in his wild excitement he knew not 
what he wrote. 

“ Y ou are a marvel, J ean. I positively believe, 
that, were the world to come to an end in full 
accord with the Puritan faith, you would go off lec- 
turing on the event before the desperate affair 
should have been fairly consummated,” said Fred, 
rolling up the papers I had given him, in wonder 
and amazement at the maturity of my plans, while 
the fire was still raging in the North Division. 

“ Be off at once, Fred. Here are twenty-five 
dollars, all I have in the world, but I will trust to 
borrowing for my own wants.” 

Fred left me, having entered fully into the merits 
of my plans. 

Two hours later I found Shintzenstein at his 


io8 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


office. Whilst one of the few who were not burned 
out, he was not without his trouble. I found him 
walking the floor frantically, and groaning over the 
loss of a boy of whom he had up to that hour 
received no tidings. 

“ Loan me fifty dollars, quick, judge. I will 
return it in ten days.” 

He handed me seventy-five in a mistake in the 
midst of his grief ; and I returned the surplus with 
many thanks, and retired. 

I spent the evening until a late hour, poring 
over my lecture, with the aid of two assistants, 
one of whom had made some reputation as a 
speaker for the temperance folks, and the other for 
the cause of the gospel. 

I succeeded in framing quite an attractive de- 
scription of such scenes as would be most heart- 
rending. Many of these never occurred, but all of 
them might have, and should havk in order to give 
the subject all the variety desirable to the lecturer. 

At ten o’clock I received the following telegram 
from Fred : — 

“You are to lecture here to-morrow night. We could 
pack two halls and three churches if it were possible to 
divide yourself up.” 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


109 

I read the telegram with peculiar satisfaction, 
and then and there decided to divide up, though in 
a somewhat different way. 

I engaged my two assistants for a term of four 
weeks each, and directed them to meet me on the 
following morning for instructions. 


no 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


CHAPTER XIV. 

T HAD not forgotten Lotta. She was more 
than a thousand miles away ; yet the wires had 
probably already informed her of the fall of the 
city, and she might be in distress concerning my 
safety. 

It was Tuesday morning. I had made ready to 
depart in the new role of lecturer ; but, before leav- 
ing, I sent Lotta the following telegram : — 

“ Chicago destroyed. Start on a lecturing tour eastward. 
Will meet you at New Boston about Dec. 15. Get ready.” 

The train did not leave for the city where I was 
to lecture, until four o’clock in the afternoon ; and 
during the day J perfected my plans of “ dividing 
up.” 

In a lager-beer saloon in the West Division, — for 
the want of a better place, — seated around a beer 
table, my assistants and I continued the study of 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


ill 


our lecture. We exchanged notes, until each was 
ready to wager the other that his effort would 
weigh the most. 

These two men, well known in the field of 
journalism and to- the temperance and gospel 
platforms, had now come, under my forceful manip- 
ulations, into an engagement to personate Jean 
Clarkson on a lecturing tour. This was not alto- 
gether right ; but the public were to be unharm- 
fully deceived, for both of these men were better 
and more experienced speakers than myself. 

Securing and sending out advance agents for 
each of the new-made Clarksons, all armed with 
copies of the documents given to Fred, I marked 
out their routes ; one north and the other south of, 
but both parallel to, my own. I sent out with each 
a trusty financial agent, who was to look after 
funds, pay the bills, and report progress daily. 

With wonderful fortune I chanced on getting 
the right man in the right place in every instance ; 
and thus in a threefold tide, we marched eastward 
from city to city, crying little else but “Fire! 
fire ! ” to crowded houses ; netting in the aggregate 
from three to five hundred dollars a night. 

The telegrams flew swiftly, both latitudinally 


1 1 2 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


and longitudinally ; but the whole lecture corps, 
advance agents, financial men, and the Clarkson 
trinity, moved steadily eastward. 

The press announced our coming, for consider- 
able distances ahead, and thereby secured to us the 
field, and promoted our prosperity. 

I reached Cincinnati on a Saturday afternoon. 
Telegrams were awaiting me at the Burnett House, 
announcing my arrival at Cleveland and Louisville, 
respectively. 

One of the largest halls in the Ohioan metropo- 
lis had been secured, and the city was anxious to 
hear my lecture. The press had published not 
only the circular above referred to, with all the 
indorsements, but extracts from various papers 
on our trifold route, eulogizing the masterly elo- 
quence of the now celebrated Jean Clarkson. 

I had scarcely reached the hotel when an enter- 
prising divine sent his card to my room. 

“ Show him up,” I said to the boy, half suspect- 
ing his errand. 

“ Have I the honor of meeting Mr. Clarkson ? ” 
he asked, giving me his hand. 

“ My name is Clarkson,” I answered, hoping 
that no such misfortune would overtake either of 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


IX 3 

the northern or southern extremities of my indi- 
viduality. 

" I want you to come and preach for me to-mor- 
row morning/’ he said in a good-natured way. 

" Preach ! ” 

“ Yes, preach.” 

“ Preach / Why, sir, you are crazy ! I never 
did such a thing ; ” and my astonishment was with- 
out bounds. 

"Well, you lecture, and I see you are an able 
and eloquent speaker, and of course you are a 
Christian ; and why not come over, and give our 
folks a talk ? I am played out : besides, I want to 
get out a full house, with a view to raising a bal- 
ance on our church debt. Your name will bring 
out the people, and you can talk Chicago fire or 
what you like.” And thus he pressed his case. 

I bethought me of my spiritual standing. Lotta 
was a devoted Christian, but I could not stand on 
that. I had joined the church when a mere boy, 
but had lost my card of membership in more senses 
than one. 

"Well,” I said, "if you will do the praying, I will 
read the first hymn, and talk half an hour.” 

"Agreed.” And so saying he left me to study 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


114 

up my first sermon. I studied late, and remem- 
bered, as I retired, how doubtless mine was not 
the # first sermon ever gotten up in the Burnett 
House. 

Sunday morning came. The divine for whom I 
was to preach called on his way to the church ; and 
as we walked out together he remarked, that, since 
the day was beautiful, the announcements would in 
all probability more than fill the house. 

On our arrival at the church, we found it quite 
as he had remarked. Chairs had been carried up 
from the vestry ; and the aisles, as well as the pews, 
were crowded. 

I read the hymn in a ministerial air, and he 
went through the remaining opening exercises in 
a spirit of victory. Preaching hour came. He 
turned his face to me, and then to the people, and 
said, — 

“ I have, as you see, prevailed on Mr. Clarkson 
— whom you all know in connection with his lec- 
ture — to talk to you this morning. He is very 
anxious that all present may understand that he 
does not preach, and will not on this occasion, but 
will say a few words as may suit his own judg- 
ment/.’ 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


“5 

He fell back into the sofa, and I rose smiling. 

“ My friends, I am not a preacher, could not and 
will not preach ; but, at the earnest request of your 
enterprising pastor, I am here to talk about that 
calamity from which so many thousand hearts are 
still bleeding ; and, if I were spiritually loyal to the 
peculiar situation in which I find myself at this 
moment, I would preface my remarks with the text, 
* Be ye also ready.’ ” And thus I proceeded thirty- 
five minutes, during which time many a tear in 
that vast congregation came stealing forth in sym- 
pathy for the woes consequent upon the scenes and 
incidents which I described. 

The evenings came and went, until it was no 
longer embarrassing to meet the vast audiences, and 
I became master of a discourse not wholly unwor- 
thy the great subject. 

At last we reached the city which I have already 
miscalled New Boston. Here in a large and ele- 
gantly appointed hall, the three Jean Clarksons 
came together on one platform, and measured 
strength before a large and intelligent audience. 

I mentioned to my hearers, that, having met two 
distinguished literary men of the doomed city that 
day, I had prevailed on them to increase the attrac- 


n6 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


tions of the evening by their presence and co-oper- 
ation; and, mentioning their names, added that 
they would each in their turn precede myself in 
some remarks. 

It had been mutually agreed to, that the time, 
one hour and a half, should be equally divided be- 
tween the three persons in the Clarkson trinity, and 
that our advance agents, who had remained there 
to settle and receive their discharge, should act as 
judges. One hundred dollars was to be awarded 
the victor from the receipts of the evening, 

There was such a similarity between the dis- 
courses of my competitors, that I was forced to 
believe they had made but little departure from the 
hints they received at the commencement. This 
gave the first speaker a decided advantage over the 
second ; but the smiling faces of our judges gave 
sufficient evidence that they would make due al- 
lowance for position. 

I followed in my happiest mood, and had a de- 
cided advantage. It was the closing lecture of the 
course or tour ; and my profits, after every demand 
was satisfied, netted the handsome sum of seven 
thousand dollars. 

The contest was therefore unequal. My competi- 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


117 


tors may have had more ability, even more genuine 
eloquence ; but it was poverty against wealth, labor 
against capital ; and the world is already too famil- 
iar with the issues of such unequal contests. 

The committee, at my previous suggestion, di- 
vided the prize-money equally between my able 
assistants ; and unto this- day they recount their 
respective victories in good faith. 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


118 


CHAPTER XV. 

T HAD now reached the city of my first unfortu- 
nate newspaper experience. Here my assistant 
lecturers were paid off and discharged, as also the 
whole staff ; and we dissolved business relations, 
'feeling that the task in which we had engaged had 
come to a glorious completion. . 

Most of my household furniture,' formerly used 
in housekeeping, was stored in the garret belong- 
ing to a friend ; and the little house in which we 
had lived was vacated on the same week of my 
arrival. 

I visited it, and found the place had been greatly 
improved. Then, securing a lease to the 1st of the 
following May, I began moving in the furniture. 

Adding considerably to our household goods, I 
made the place look as finely as possible, and waited 
for Lotta. She had already announced her ap- 
proach by wire, and I was hourly expecting her. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


IX 9 

After considerable search, I had found our old 
girl, Minnie; and she had taken charge of the 
little home once more, and was anxiously awaiting 
her mistress. 

It was eight o’clock on Christmas Eve when 
Lotta reached the city; and was, to her utter sur- 
prise, conducted to the same little home which she 
had left a year before. 

“Jean, is this real, or am I dreaming?” she 
asked in delight, looking bright and happy. 

“ Ask Minnie,” I answered, as the girl came in 
from the dining-room to* say that supper was ready, 
closing the door quickly behind her. 

This was almost too much for Lotta ; and half 
crying and laughing she sprang towards me, and 
partly kneeling, with both arms about my neck and 
the back of my chair, as was her custom in mo- 
ments of great joy or sorrow, sobbed out, — 

“You have been making a surprise for me, 
Jean.” 

I kissed her tears of joy away, and we started for 
the dining-room, where she met another surprise. 
A long table was groaning under the richest delica- 
cies ; every thing which the season afforded had 
been prepared ; and around the table sat a happy 


120 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


twelve, Lotta’ s old and most intimate friends, who 
joined in giving her a welcome which she can never 
forget. 

Two seats at the table were empty, and we 
occupied them ; while Minnie, with one hand on the 
sideboard and the other on her hip, asked, — 

“ And what will you have first, ma’am ? ” 

This situation overcame Lotta, and she burst 
into tears, crying outright, but with joy. She 
sobbed, and we laughed heartily, for several minutes ; 
and frequently during the meal she broke out 
afresh. 

The festivities closed over three bottles of Carte 
Blanche , to the presence of which Lotta consented, 
since the whole affair was in honor of her arrival. 

But a still greater surprise was in store for my 
little queen. Before we arose from the table, 
Minnie, at the giving of a preconcerted signal, 
handed a small box to Dr. Norton, who with his 
amiable wife occupied, at my request, the head of 
the table. 

The doctor, wearing his gravest countenance, 
arose and began, — 

“It is my pleasant duty, friends, to request your 
attention to what I am about to say. — Mrs. Clark- 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 121 

son, you have been a long time absent. Your short 
stay at this pleasant residence drew close to your 
heart the truest friendship of a large number of 
good people, a few of whom are here to-night to 
bear testimony to my words. When you left, a 
financial cloud — a blessing in disguise — had over- 
shadowed your talented husband. On your return 
you find him still brilliant with the laurels of vic- 
tory which he has so gallantly won. Is it not 
therefore meet and proper that we your friends, we 
who know your worth and admire your devotion, 
should assemble here to-night, and extend to you a 
sincere and heartfelt welcome ? ” 

Lotta, with her face buried in my bosom, sobbed 
like a child under a father’s severest punishment. 

The doctor continued, “This we do gladly, 
heartily, in these words : Welcome , thrice welcome ' 
home ! Nor is this all. I hold here in my hand a 
beautiful gold watch and chain, the gift of your 
noble husband. Upon one of the cases I observe 
the word ‘Lotta,’ upon the other ‘Jean.’ These 
are words which, I fancy, Mrs. Clarkson, have a 
meaning to you far deeper and more sacred than 
we are permitted to know. There is but one who 
can share with you the inspirations' which must 


122 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


come with the mention of these names ; and long 
may you thus share them together ! Mrs. Clarkson, 
take this watch, wear it as a token of your hus- 
band’s love ; and, as its delicate fingers faithfully 
point to the passing hours, they will imitate the 
holy constancy of your own untiring devotion.” 

I took the watch from the speaker, and, throwing 
the chain around Lotta’s neck, placed it in her 
hand, and tried to brush away her tears, but she 
cried the more. 

The doctor continued, — 

“Nor is this all, Mrs. Clarkson. I hold in my 
hand a bank-draft payable to your order, for two 
thousand dollars. This comes to you in this wise. 
I am told that there are articles of copartnership 
existing between you and your generous husband, 
written or understood, by which the profits as well 
as the hardships of life are equally divided between 
you. In conformity with that compact, let me hand 
you this draft, your share of the net profits on your 
husband’s genius for the past year. May you re- 
ceive many such tokens of his love and devotion, 
and finally may your life become brighter and hap- 
pier each day to the end of a long and useful life ! ” 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


123 


CHAPTER XVI. 

T OTTA and I had not been fairly settled in our 
-■ — J new old home in New Boston, when one 
morning as we sat at breakfast, and as I opened an 
enterprising weekly journal published in New York, 
to which some ingenious solicitor, with aid of 
chromos, had induced her to subscribe in my ab- 
sence, she remarked, — 

“ What are you going to do next, Jean ? ” 

But before I could answer the question, my eyes 
were attracted by a portrait which appeared on the 
first page of the paper in my hands. Under it I 
read the name of “Col. the Hon. John Nicholson.” 
Aside from the portrait, the paper contained his 
biography, from which I learned that he had dis- 
tinguished himself on one of the battle-fields of 
the Rebellion, in some ordinary affairs, had been 
twice elected to the State Senate, and had acquired 
considerable wealth as a brewer, and was only forty- 
five years old. 


124 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


“ There is a mystery here,” I said to Lotta. 

“ Where, Jean?” 

“ Here is a portrait and biography of a fellow 
in this paper, who has done nothing extraordinary, 
and has no reputation, good or bad, beyond his 
own neighborhood.” 

“In what paper ? ” . 

“In this weekly fraud to which you subscribed 
for the sake of a chromo,” I replied. 

“ Well, we don’t care, do we?” 

“ I do care. I care to have an intelligent under- 
standing of such things as I see and hear, and this 
thing puzzles me.” 

“ Can’t you puzzle it out ? Come, grainer, jour- 
nalist, lecturer, come, don’t let such a thing over- 
come you,” answered Lotta teasingly. 

“ I mean to ; ” and, with my reply, I made an 
examination of the paper to see whether or not the 
editor understood his business. 

“I can solve it, Jean. The editor of that paper 
is in about the same fix that you were when some 
one induced you to publish Miss Speedwell’s poem, 
‘ The Orphan Girl,’ in ‘ The Gazette,’ at so much 
a line.” 

“ Do you mean to say, Lotta, that this man, this 
Col. the Hon., has paid for all this ? ” 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 125 

“ I should not think him above it, if he is a 
brewer,” she answered. 

This threw me into a deep study. Breakfast 
over, I walked down town, and made many inquir- 
ies concerning the publishing business, especially 
the book department of it, and learned much I had 
not before known. 

Step by step I came into the most stupendous 
scheme of my life, I could see one hundred thou- 
sand dollars clear profit, as plain as the nose on my 
face. 

I rushed home to a late dinner, finding Lotta 
considerably alarmed at my long absence. 

“ Where have you been, Jean, till this time? 
The dinner was cold an hour ago,” said Lotta, with 
a wry face. 

“ ‘ Man shall not live by bread alone ; ’ ‘ I have 
meat that ye know not of/ ” was my reply. 

I was too excited to eat much. Lotta listened 
to my plans with interest. She did not like the 
business I proposed, but agreed with me that it 
would likely be profitable. 

“ It is all due to that miserable little paper you 
subscribed for, Lotta. You are always helping me 
without knowing it. Had it not been for the 


126 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


interpretation which you put upon that portrait 
which puzzled me this morning, I would not this 
moment be on my road to fortune.” 

Lotta laughed heartily, but asked how I was 
going to manage. 

“ In this wise,” I answered. “ We will move to 
New York, take elegant quarters at the Fifth 
Avenue, secure a down-town office, and go it in 
style.” 

“ O Jean, you are crazy ! That will ruin us : 
your ideas frighten me,” she answered in alarm. 

“Listen, Lotta; I am going to publish a large 
book of about fifteen hundred pages, called ‘ Dis- 
tinguished Americans,’ or ‘ Eminent Americans,’ 
I have not as yet decided which. It will consist of 
about five hundred or more portraits and biogra- 
phies. I have estimated that there are five hun- 
dred fools in this glorious country, who are rich 
and vain enough to pay five hundred dollars each 
for such immortalization as this scheme will afford. 
That will amount to two hundred and fifty thou- 
sand dollars ; and I estimate the profits at one 
hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Such an enter- 
prise cannot be conducted in a hog-pen Lotta. 
No, no ! I have the idea. We must go to the Fifth 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


127 


Avenue Hotel ; and I must get out a letter-head, 
on imported hand-made paper, like this : f Author’s 
library and study, parlors A, B, C, D, Fifth Avenue 
Hotel; Publication House, 250, 252, 254, 256, and 
258, Broadway.’ Then I must issue a circular, 
describing the work as written by Professor Jean 
Clarkson, and must get the indorsements of fifteen 
or twenty State governors to the work. Don’t you 
see, Lotta?” 

Lotta saw, for she said, “ O Jean, you are a 
prodigy ! ” 

“Thank you for the compliment, Lotta, but I 
have no time to appreciate it. Pack me a small 
valise : I go to New York in an hour, to make the 
arrangements, and will return in a week to take 
you, bag and baggage.” 

Meeting with good results in the metropolis, I 
soon made all the necessary arrangements for the 
engraving, printing, &c. A large printing and 
publishing house, to whom I revealed my plans, 
offered to go into partnership with me ; but I de- 
clined, and bound them by writings to the terms 
of our agreement. 

This establishment offered me a room for my 
down-town office, so that on my letters and circu- 


128 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


lars I could use half a dozen Broadway numbers, 
when, indeed, I had but a small desk-room up two 
flights of stairs. 

Very much elated at the prospect, on the even- 
ing of the first day I returned to the St. Nicholas, 
where I was stopping, and telegraphed Lotta, 
“ Safe and prosperous : hallelujah ! ” 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


129 


CHAPTER XVII. 

T\ /TY New York arrangements all made, circu- 
-L**- lars issued, stationery printed, and hotel- 
apartments secured,. I returned for Lotta. A week 
later we had entered on a scale of expensive living, 
which, as Lotta often declared, was perfectly 
wicked. 

We had a beautiful suite of .rooms, one floor 
above the dining-room, consisting of a reception- 
room, a beautiful parlor, and a sleeping-room with 
dressing and bath rooms attached. 

The furniture and appointments were rich and 
elegant. A private Or exclusive table was allotted 
us in both the dining and breakfast halls, and we 
were ready to entertain our company in princely 
style. 

My business was now fairly inaugurated. I sent 
carefully worded letters to distinguished men 
everywhere ; and Lotta, who kept an eye over my 


130 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


operations, declared she had no idea that the world 
contained half so many distinguished men as my 
business revealed. 

Here is a sample of the letters which I sent out. 
It will doubtless be recognized by thousands who 
. read it. Many will laugh triumphantly that they 
were wise enough to consign it to the waste-bas- 
ket, where it rightly belonged ; others, not a few, 
will recognize in it the alluring words, which, strik- 
ing a chord of sympathy in their vain souls, led 
them on *to the indulgence of cheap immortaliza- 
tion. I will give the letter, heading and all : — 

Distinguished Americans ! A Great National Work / Art 
Engravings / 

Author’s Library and Study, Parlors A, B, and C, Hotel. 

Office , Broadway , New York City. 

Dear Sir, — I'beg to direct your attention to my new 
work, entitled “ Distinguished Americans ; ” circulars fully 
describing which, and containing the strongest indorsements 
of the author, you will find enclosed herewith. The work is 

published by & Co., a firm well knpwn to you. To 

myself is assigned the important task of selecting persons 
whose eminence in the various professions and industries 
entitles them to a place in the work, and of preparing for the 
press the biographies of such persons. I desire to receive 
at an early day a photograph of yourself, cabinet size, to- 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


I 3 I 

gether with such data as will enable me to write a lengthy 
biographical sketch. Should you find it embarrassing to 
give this, — and I know your sense of modesty will rebel 
against it, — you will find some literary friend, who, with 
your own assistance, will be able to supply me with what I 
require. Both the biography when in type, and the engrav- 
ings before final publication, will be submitted for your 
approval. Please grant me an early reply, and signify 
whether or not you would object to assist this great national 
enterprise so far as to be at the slight expense of your own 
engraving. 

Your humble and obedient servant, 

Jean Clarkson. 

P. S. I shall be glad to have you call on me at my library 
and study when you happen to be in the city : I will enter- 
tain you to the best of my ability. J. C. 

What was not set forth in this letter was elo- 
quently told in the circular that accompanied it, to 
which a well-known publishing firm in the city had 
permitted the use of their name for a consideration. 

The spring and summer during the progress of 
the work were full of odd experiences. We were 
besieged at the hotel by parties who took advantage 
of the postscript to my letter. It was wonderful 
how these men would not only pay for this cheap 
fame, but travel hundreds of miles to New York, 


132 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


where they could superintend the affair, so far as it 
concerned them, in person. 

Each one called with some such remark as, — 

“ I received your letter some time ago, but could 
not exactly understand what was wanted. Having 
business in the city, I took advantage of a few 
leisure moments to call and see you personally.” 

Before they left, however, it became evident that 
the greater part of their business to New York 
was with, me ; or, as Lotta often said, they came to 
join my “ mutual admiration society,” for such was 
her name for my book long before it was published. 

I adapted my snare to suit the size of the head 
which I desired to catch, but left the victims to 
make their own fits. Three styles of portraits 
became necessary to meet the demands oi»the three 
grades of eminence which my wide-reaching enter- 
prise concocted. 

Full-page portraits were five hundred dollars ; 
half, or two on a page, two hundred and fifty each ; 
five on a page, one; hundred and fifty each : terms, 
cash on completion of engraving. 

Thus had I graded the distinguished men ; but, 

9 

as I could not control them in matters of choice, it 
happened as a rule that the least distinguished 
chose the first class. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


133 


The scenes and incidents which came to my 
mind in connection with this business would fill 
more than ten volumes of this size ; and each of 
them, if told in proper style, would make a most 
laughable story. I will detain the reader with but 
a single one. 

I had been manipulating a Michigander who had 
evidently come all the way from the Peninsula 
State to see and share in the benefits of my scheme. 
Pie may have had some slight pretext of a business 
character. 

I had dined him ; and, although a teetotaller, he 
took a little light wine for his stomach’s sake to 
finish off with, and was feeling in excellent spirits. 
He had carefully counted the cost, and, like a pru- 
dent man that he was, decided to become one of 
a group of five at one hundred and fifty dollars. 

We started out to the artist’s gallery, hoping the 
light would be yet sufficiently strong to get a good 
negative ; but the hour was quite late. 

The photographer concluded to make thfe at- 
tempt, but was doubtful as to the results. He had 
already taken many photographs for my work, and 
was beginning to suspect the nature of my busi- 
ness in spite of my studied silence. 


*34 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


The object of my regard on this occasion was 
an old man, who, having grown up with a well-to-do 
town of his State, had become wealthy through no 
effort of his own. He had served a term or two 
in the early forms of the State or Territorial Legis- 
lature. 

He had been quite a reader of both agricultural 
and religious works, and was fond of manifesting 
his knowledge, but fell into the misfortune of using 
“ geology ” for “ theology,” and vice versa. This 
threw Lotta into a fit of laughter, and on one occa- 
sion she was forced to leave the room. But to the 
incident in question. 

The old gent' took me into the dressing-room, 
and suggested that I might aid in arranging his 
hair. He desired it “ frowzled,” to use a word of 
his own, in a careless Greeley style. I ran my 
hands through it, aijd gave him a sort of Long- 
fellow appearance, and remarked that he was a fine 
subject. 

His vanity was unquenchable, and now broke 
out in his putting on various phases of expression. 

“ How do you like that style ? ” and so asking, 
he raised his eyebrows, making about sixteen wrin- 
kles, and pouted out his ample lips, after the style 
of an aged man playing with his grandchild. 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


135 


■41 

“ I would look natural,” I replied, almost split- 
ting from suppressed laughter. 

“ Then, how is this ? ” he continued, drawing his 
upper lip down firmly, and forcing the under one 
up with an expression of good-humored surprise. 

This was all I could bear, — nay, more. I gave it 
up. I thought the matter over. There was only 
a hundred dollars to be lost, and it was a case 
where I was ready to give two hundred for a 
laugh ; and so I lay down to it, and rolled. 

My patron met the operator at the door of the 
dressing-room, and apologized. I straightened up, 
and did my best ; but momentarily volleys of laugh- 
ter broke forth in spite of my best endeavors. 

He took his seat, and the operator began to 
adjust the camera. All was ready, and the cloth 
was being removed, when the old man, raising his 
hand, said, — 

“ Take me in a group ! ” 

The operator could enjoy this with me, and we 
broke out in a fit of laughter, such as astonished 
the Michigander beyond all measure ; either of us 
unable to speak for several minutes, to save our 
lives. 


1 36 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

TAURING my stay at the hotel, I made the ac- 
quaintance of one of the guests, named Jean 
Harrison. He was a wealthy ship-owner, and a 
young man of only thirty one or two. 

Through some means Mr. Harrison’s education 
had been sadly neglected, and he knew little or noth- 
ing save what an intelligent person will gather in 
general contact with the world. He was a bright, 
intelligent man ; and in conversation, especially on 
matters of business, he was gentlemanly and well 
informed. 

He had been left an orphan while yet an infant, 
and the parties with whom he found a home did 
not or could not send him to school. 

Among his deficiencies was the utter inability to 
write intelligently. He could sign his own name, 
but the penmanship was wretched. 

We soon became fast friends, and for some rea- 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


*37 


son I let him into the secrets of my business. One 
day while in my office I had opened in his presence 
letters enclosing, in the aggregate, about three thou- 
sand dollars. Seeing this, he pressed me to sell 
him an interest in the affair ; but I put him off. 

In turn Harrison also made me a confidant in a 
most important matter concerning himself. He 
was in a tight place, and needed some such assist- 
tance as I could give him. 

He had fallen in love with a delightful and 
accomplished young lady in the city, and had 
resolved to marry her. The lady loved him in re- 
turn ; but there was a difficulty in the way. She, 
too, was an orphan, and under the guardianship of 
an uncle. But little opportunity was afforded her 
for entertaining gentlemen, except those after his 
own liking. 

The Rev. Dr. Grey thorn, the uncle referred to, 
was principal of a leading college in the city, and 
preached occasionally. He had arranged,* as he 
hoped, for the marriage of his niece to a Col. 
Robert Johnson, a lawyer of prospective eminence 
and some property, and a resident of New York. 

Col. Johnson had become one of my patrons. 
His steel engraving had been completed, approved, 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


*38 

and paid for ; and he still held the biography which 
I had written, waiting for an opportunity to exam- 
ine it. 

The young lady, whom we may call Tillie, de- 
spised Johnson, but, to satisfy her uncle, occasion- 
ally received his attentions. She met Harrison 
secretly, and whenever occasion offered gave him 
evidences of her regard. 

Harrison was a good-hearted man, honest, but a 
little out of confidence with himself. He could 
not prosper in this matter nearest his heart, as he 
desired ; and, now that a new difficulty had over- 
taken him, he sought my counsel and aid. 

His new difficulty consisted in a letter which he 
had received from Tillie. It required an answer ; 
and Harrison could not write sufficiently fine for 
the occasion, and well he knew it. He laid the 
whole case before me, and appealed for help. 

“ What can I do for you, Mr. Harrison ? ” I 
asked, as we sat in my office together, brooding 
over the situation. 

“ I wish you to answer this letter, and any others 
she may send me, and do it in such a way as to 
bring our affairs to an issue.” 

This was a task to which I gave my best ener- 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


139 


gies. Having been posted as to all crooks and 
turns in their experience, I wrote an answer to the 
letter, which Harrison thought a little too strong. 
He said it might do for an old lover, but was not 
timid enough for him. I tried again, and suc- 
ceeded. 

He mailed it, and in three days showed me the 
answer. I wrote again, and again, and again ; and 
again she replied. Thus matters continued for 
weeks, not one of which came that did not wit- 
ness two letters pass each way. 

Their love waxed warmer and warmer, and Har- 
rison’s found a ready exponent in my willing pen. 
Their engagement had long since become a matter 
of the past, and the wedding was soon at hand. 

Some of the letters were real efforts, giving a 
depth and character to courtship which made it 
instructive as well as entertaining. 

Tillie’s uncle was watching her closely. He 
noticed the unusual display of letters, and resolved 
to make an investigation ; and, the more readily 
that he might execute these designs, he graciously 
permitted Tillie to pay a visit of a couple of days 
to a cousin in one of the suburbs, at her own 
request. 


140 THAT YOUNG MAN. 

This pretended visit, however, was Tillie’s de- 
ception, as we shall see. 

She had scarcely left his house when he invaded 
her private apartments, and found the letters. Be- 
coming exasperated, he carried them to Col. John- 
son, who, as he rightly supposed, would be able to 
share in his unhappy surprise. 

Johnson was a shrewd lawyer, and at once de- 
tected the writing. 

“ Do you know who this Jean is, who writes 
these letters ? ” asked Johnson. 

“ I have no idea,” answered the reverend princi- 
pal. 

“ He is none other than Professor Jean Clarkson, 

a married man who lives with his wife at the 

Hotel in this city.” 

“You astonish me; you break my heart! My 
niece is ruined. I will prosecute him ! ” and for a 
few moments the reverend gentleman in his rage 
forgot his highest calling. 

“Are you sure of this, colonel ? ” he asked ; and, 
to convince him, the colonel opened a drawer, and 
brought out his biography. The writing was com- 
pared, and there was no longer room for doubt. 

They talked first of a prosecution; but both 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


141 

Johnson and the principal agreed that such a 
course would ruin Tillie. And at length it was 
decided that the aggrieved principal should at once 
pay a visit to Mrs. Clarkson, in my absence, and 
expose the faithless conduct of her husband. ’ In 
this way they hoped the whole affair would be 
broken off without scandal. 

Meanwhile my project was nearing completion. 
The first edition of the book had appeared, and I 
had sold the right to publish the second for five 
thousand dollars. In all, after winding up the busi- 
ness, the profits on the enterprise were quite up to 
my most sanguine expectations, notwithstanding 
the enormous expense which attended it. 


142 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


N the same afternoon that the Rev. Dr. Grey- 



thorn was disclosing the supposed faithless- 
ness of her husband to Lotta, Harrison and Tillie 
were being united in an up-town church, and were 
to meet some friends in a wedding entertainment 
at our hoteL 

Lotta and I were to join the company; but, 
faithful to my solemn engagement with Harrison, 
she knew nothing of it until after the scenes 
described in the opening chapter were enacted. 

When, on my return to the hotel, I discovered 
the cause of Lotta’ s grief, I resolved on the spur 
of the moment to test a love which I had already 
too much tested, and did so in the cruel proposition 
for a separation. However, my test proved a suc- 
cess ; and I never regretted the knowledge gained 
thereby. Lotta’ s deportment on this occasion is 
worthy imitation. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


143 


Before the marriage, Harrison, in the honesty of 
his heart, had confessed to Tillie regarding the 
letters ; and on the wedding evening, at the close 
of the festivities in the hotel, Lotta and I, with 
the bride and groom, withdrew to an adjoining 
parlor, where, to Lotta’ s utter surprise, I narrated 
the incidents of the afternoon and evening in rela- 
tion to the mysterious letters. 

Harrison fathered the letters on the spot ; and 
his accomplished bride added her testimony to that 
of his, and paid me a rich compliment for the pen- 
manship, but gave me no credit for the sentiments. 
It would have been impossible to convince her that 
Harrison had not dictated them, and no one was 
disposed to try. 

Lotta, again in one of her laughing, crying fits, 
called me mean, cruel, but kissed me with mani- 
fest relief. 

She and Tillie became, and are still, fast friends. 

Before we separated, Harrison suggested that I 
should write another letter. It was the last he 
would ask me to pen, since it was the only one, he 
thought, which would embarrass Tillie ; and from 
henceforth she was to act as his secretary. 

Writing-materials were provided ; and we pro- 
ceeded, he dictating, and I transcribing : — 


144 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


— — Hotel, New York City. 

Rev. Dr. Greythorn. 

Dear Sir , — This afternoon Tillie and I were married. 
We expect you will forgive all when you know all. Come 
and see us at ten, a.m., to-morrow ; but first show this letter to 
Col. Johnson, and explain the difference, if you can, between 
Jean Harrison and my friend Professor Jean Clarkson, 
whose handwriting and my own, from some cause, appear 
to be identical. Jean Harrison. 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


145 


CHAPTER XX. 



OW, Jean, I want to remind you of something 


^ you said before I went home on that visit two 
years ago,” said Lotta, the morning after she had 
received the Rev. Greythorn’s ' apologies, and ex- 
tended to hjm her own for the strange incidents 
described in the * opening chapter, for which they 
were both slightly at fault. 

“ Well, go on.” 

“After I had pressed you to go with me to 
father’s, you said, as my only reward, 1 Not until I 
have twenty thousand! Do you remember it ? ” 

“I do ; and now you want me to go, I suppose. 
Well, I have my twenty thousand, and will go ; I 
need rest ; and since I am out of business we will 
spend a few months among the old folks at home.” 

“Will you let me manage the whole affair, Jean ? 
You have always had your own way ; give me mine 
in this, won’t you ? ” 


146 THAT YOUNG MAN 

“ Lotta, I am in your hands for the next three 
months. Steer the ship to suit your whims, and 
get all the satisfaction out of it you can. I will be 
ready to leave for home in a few days, and shall 
like to spend Christmas with mother and father.” 

Lotta named a day on which we were- to leave ; 
and I promised to bend my affairs to meet her ap- 
pointment. Meanwhile she wrote several letters, 
and I observed enclosed in one a bank-draft. 

We made the journey pretty much all by rail. 
As before stated, steam communication had been 
extended through and beyond Wintjirop. The 
same line also ran at a distance of only three miles 
from my father’s house. 

On the home trip we passed through the settle- 
ment, or close to it, where I had been reared ; and 
I persisted that we should stop at my parents’ be- 
fore passing through to hers. 

Lotta was firm. “ I have your promise, Jean, 
that I should manage this affair to my own liking,” 
she said, as the cars neared the station. 

“Yes; but what will my poor old mother and 
father think if we pass them ? I won’t do it ! Lotta, 
you are selfish, cruel, thoughtless. Let us get off 
here for the night, and take the early morning 
train for Winthrop.” 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


147 


“ I will not hear to it ! All will come out right, 
and I will take the responsibility.” 

“ But have you no regard for my feelings ? You 
have been home since I have.” 

“ I have decided, Jean ! Do you know what that 
means ? ” said my wife, stamping her little foot, and 
taking me off in a way which I readily understood. 

The argument continued until we had passed the 
station, and Lotta had conquered. We rode the 
remaining twenty miles in almost absolute silence. 
I tried to appear angry, but felt only impatient, 
while Lotta entertained me with frequent titterings 
of laughter until we reached Winthrop station. 

Here we were met by Squire Bennett, who, after 
kissing his daughter, gave me a hearty welcome. 
We were conducted to his carriage, and driven to 
his residence, our trunks following close behind in 
another carriage. 

We were taken into the sitting-room, where we 
met Mrs. Bennett and the family, many of the 
children having grown almost beyond recognition. 
Here we received such a welcome as I shall never 
forget. . 

One thing worried me. There were no signs of 
supper, although it was not long past the hour 


148 that young man 

for that meal ; nor had our wants in this respect 
been inquired after. ’ 

“ Excuse me, Mrs. Bennett,” I said, “ but I am 
as hungry as a bear.” 

“ We shall have supper in a minute,” said Lotta 
quickly, before her mother could speak ; “ but come 
and dress. You are covered with coal-dust.” 

Realizing the force of her remark, I was glad of 
an opportunity to wash and otherwise make myself 
presentable. 

“You must dress, Jean. Here is your new 
suit,” said my little woman, dancing about me in 
joyful suspense. 

“Not to-night, Lotta. A wash and a comb will 
do.” 

“ I have decided, Jean ! Do you know what that 
means ? ” she repeated, again imitating my own 
style of wilfulness ; and added, “ Remember your 
promise.” 

“ Give me some reason for this, or I will not 
make a fool of myself to please you ! ” was my 
impatient answer. 

“ It is early, and there will be, dear knows who, to 
see us yet to-night,” said the amused little crea- 
ture, half laughing. 


THAT YOUNG MAN , . 


149 


“ Lotta, there is a swindle about this, but I will 
dress.” 

Half an hour later we returned to the sitting- 
room, both looking our best. 

“ Now for the supper. Mrs. Bennett, I am posi- 
tively hungry ! ” I spoke again. 

“ In one moment,” she answered ; “ but let me 
first take you to the parlor, and introduce you to 
our friends, who will doubtless like to share with us 
in a repast.” 

Lotta took my arm, and we followed ; but I was 
not without suspicions. The door opened to reveal 
a crowded parlor ; and more than thirty voices, 
male and female, shouted, — 

“ Come in, come in ! ” 

Lotta, at her old tricks, took to crying and 
laughing ; and for a moment to have opened my 
mouth would have been a dangerous expedient. 

The tears started in one eye ; but I sent them 
back involuntarily with a grip of my obedient 
nerves, and walked in. » 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I broke out, "I am 
surprised, but not overcome. Could you put me on 
the track of some man in this neighborhood who 
has marketable sheep and cattle for sale ? ” 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


» 5 ° 

A wild and hearty burst of laughter was the 
only response, aside from a general stampede in 
conformity with the announcement that supper 
was waiting. 

We were busy for five minutes shaking hands, 
and trying t.o find variety for our answers to such 
words as “ How are you ? ” “ Glad to see you ; ” 
“ Welcome home ! ” “ Will you teach for us this 

winter ? ” * “I have a fast mare for sale ; ” “ Don’t 
you want a hundred fat cattle ? ” &c. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 




CHAPTER XXL 

T^ASSING through the sitting-room which we 
had left, we were led into an old-fashioned 
farm-house dining-hall, about twenty by forty feet. 
It presented a delightful appearance, trimmed from 
floor to ceiling with evergreen, flags, flowers, &c. 
One would have supposed it a banquet-hall as when 
dressed for a state occasion. 

/ 

To me this was the most agreeable surprise of 
all, and now I could have forgiven Lotta for deny- 
ing me the privilege of calling at father’s*; but in 
the midst of it all I could not help feeling that 
mother and father had been shamefully slighted. I 
had not seen them for more than ten years. But 
they had still eyes to see, and hearts to feel, and 
would have enjoyed the pleasure of this entertain- 
ment ; and, aside from this, I was unhappy at the 
thought of their absence. 

Such were my meditations as we took our seats 




THAT YOUNG MAN. 


around the long table.. Squire Bennett was look- 
ing in his best humor, at the head of the table. 
His good wife occupied her place at the foot op- 
posite him. About half way down on one side 
Lotta and I were assigned our places. The other 
seats on either side were occupied by the guests, 
except two, — one on my immediate right, and the 
other on Lotta’s immediate left. These had been 
left vacant, as I thought inadvertently, and I jok- 
ingly inquired, — 

“ Are there not a couple of children whom you 
can bring to occupy these seats ? ” 

“ Why, Mr. Clarkson, have you no family ? ” 
inquired the squire. This brought the blush to 
Lotta’s cheeks, and the company laughed heartily 
at my expense. 

“ Get him a couple of children, Jane,” said the 
squire in a fit of laughter. 

Mrs. Bennett rose as if in obedience, and left 
the room. In less than a minute she returned 
with — My Mother and Father. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


*53 


CHAPTER XXII. 

J EAN, it is just one year ago to-night since I 
gave you that glorious surprise at Winthrop. 
It makes me homesick to think of it,” said Lotta, 
as we sat together one evening in a beautiful parlor 
in a leading hotel at the capital city of a prosper- 
ous Western State. 

“Just one year ago this very New-Year’s Eve! 
What a glorious New-Year’s Eve it was ! I shall 
never forget it. How the scenes come and go ! 
We shall never all meet again as on that evening. 
Mother has gone to her rest and reward, and the 
squire has been laid in the tomb. Your father and 
my mother in the better world, my father and your 
mother still lingering in this : has that thought 
never come to you with significant force ? ” 

“ No, Jean : I never thought of it in just that way 
before,” said Lotta meditatively. 

“Nor I. It came to me as my mind hurried 


*54 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


retrospectively oyer the scenes that are forever 
gone, but which still live in our recollections. Say, 
Lotta, you often speak of heaven : now, do you 
think the squire has ever met my mother there ? ” 

“ Of course I do. They are probably talking of 
us to-night.” 

“And do you think,” I continued, “that they 
can influence, for good or evil, the affairs of this 
life, which may or may not concern us ? ” 

“ O Jean, that is a Romish idea ! ” 

“Then, you don’t believe in it?” 

“No.” 

“ Simply because it is Romish ? ” 

“ No ! I don’t know why. I was taught not to. 
Perhaps they can. I do not understand such deep 
things. It is not for us to know. What do you 
think, Jean 

“ Oh ! I don’t know any thing about it. I leave 
all such matters to you. You are my doctor of 
divinity.” 

“ Why did you ask me such a question ? ” in- 
quired Lotta, somewhat puzzled. 

“For this reason. If the departed can influence, 
our actions, I was going to ask you whom we 
should hold responsible for my father’s foolish 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


*55 


proposal of marriage to your mother, — the squire, 
or my dear departed mother ? but, as you don’t be- 
lieve in the doctrine, I’ll not ask the question.” 

“Jean, you are positively wicked. How could 
you indulge such awful thoughts ? ” 

“ Well, let us change the subject. Do you know, 
Lotta, I am in a quandary over this business, and 
fear that unless something turns up in my favor it 
will not go through. The Legislature has now been 
in session nearly a week, and I have had but little 
encouragement from any of the members.” 

“Jean, do tell me what that business is.< What 
are you trying to do ? I cannot understand it.” 

“ Simply this,” I answered : “ I have invented or 
contrived some eighteen hundred blank forms, used 
in connection with all kinds of public business, 
such as school registers, contracts with teachers, 
and blank forms of all kinds for every department 
of State business. They have all been approved 
by the superintendent of public instruction, the 
Attorney-General, and the heads of the several de- 
partments to which they belong. I wish to have 
them authorized by the Legislature, in which case 
every department will be obliged to use them. I 
have them all copyrighted ; and, can I push the 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


*56 

matter through both Houses, I will have a monopoly 
of State stationery, in which there are two fortunes 
annually at the grade of prices I have arranged.” 

Lotta could now grasp my idea. She inquired 
no further, but left me to my meditations. 

It was evident that most of the members with 
whom I had talked saw the significance of my 
plan. It was of a private nature ; and, as no one 
would profit by the law but its promoter, it would 
be difficult to create sufficient interest to consum- 
mate my designs. 

I had started out in the belief that five thousand 
dollars would carry the required resolution through 
both Houses swimmingly ; but three days’ combat 
with the leading members taught me that it would 
probably require ten thousand, and I was not will- 
ing to risk so much. 

The project would probably yield a hundred 
thousand a year ; but it was an untried experiment, 
and there was no telling how often I should be 
tripped. Two thousand dollars had already been 
spent in getting out samples of the blanks, and 
securing the required indorsements from chiefs of 
departments : therefore it would not do now to fal- 
ter. I resolved to sink eight thousand more ; and, 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 157 

after weighing the whole case to the best of my 
knowledge, the possibility of success became appar- 
ent. 

The wholesale stationery-house which had em- 
barked with me in the enterprise would furnish 
half the amount required, but were to have only 
one-third of the profits : hence the case still pre- 
sented some hopeful phases. 

Three days later the members began to gather, 
and once more the lobby of the hotel was crowded. 
I resumed my work with cautious manipulation, 
making the acquaintance of some new members, 
and advancing in the favor of those with whom I 
had previously met. 

There was one thing decidedly against me. 
Some ten or twelve of the senators and assembly- 
men had purchased immortalization, at the rate of 
two hundred and fifty or five hundred dollars a head, 
in my “ Distinguished Americans ” two years be- 
fore. They had outlived the delusion of their van- 
ity, and had come to view the matter in the light 
of impartial criticism, and were thoroughly ashamed 
of the whole affair. More than this, they mu&t 
have come to believe my endeavors to hand their 
distinguished names down to posterity were insin- 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


158 

cere. However, I was not to be overcome by 
this. 

When the session opened, I took a prominent 
Democrat — one of the leaders — into my confi- 
dence ; we had bargained, and his best energies 
were thoroughly enlisted; but he gave it as his 
candid opinion, that my scheme could not be car- 
ried through short of twenty thousand dollars. 

“ The fact is,” he said over a bottle of champagne 
one evening, “ we are seldom re-elected, and must 
make the best we can of a single term. If mem- 
bers could depend on a run of four or five terms, 
they would be less grasping.” 

I appreciated his remark, — that is, I felt its 
force, — but at the same time resolved to let the 
scheme rest on the merits of ten thousand, or sink. 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


1 59 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

IT 7E will now look in upon a little group of 
* * three men, who were sipping their wine 
and puffing their Havanas in an elegant apartment 
at another hotel in the same city. 

These men were Col. Briggs of Melville, Gen. 
Bright of Morrisburg, and Major Brown of a well- 
known town on the Mississippi, — the president, 
vice-president, and treasurer of the Melville, Mor- 
risburg, and Mississippi Railroad Company, whose 
line was now in course of construction. 

These shrewd men — all really celebrated for 
their energy and success in business — had brought 
previous legislatures to their aid in no small appro- 
priations, on two occasions. This was the third 
time they had come up to the capital with an axe 
to grind, and on this occasion it was exceedingly 
dull. 

Their case was not overly hopeful, for several 


i6o 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


reasons. The road had been so long under way, 
and its management so much at variance with 
every principle of economy, that it had become a 
question of State politics, and was difficult of con- 
trol. 

It was to overcome such difficulties that these 
three railroad dignitaries now united their money 
and skill and energies. 

Another appropriation was indispensable, yet 
the difficulties in the way of securing it were 
nearly or quite insurmountable. But these men 
were not altogether without hope. Hear them : — 

“ General,” asked the major, “ what is to be 
done?” 

“ I am trying to solve it, major. However, some- 
thing must be done at once,” answered Gen. Bright 
in perplexity. 

“ I will tell you,” interppsed Col. Briggs. “ We 
must send the cleverest lobbyist in this country to 
that legislature with twenty thousand dollars, and 
ask for an appropriation of five hundred thousand. 
If he is shrewd enough he will succeed. If not, 
our case is lost ; but this is our only hope.” 

“ I am ready to indorse your opinion, colonel ; 
but where is there a man smart enough for the 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 161 

task ? That, it seems to me, is the question of 
the hour,” said Gen. 'Bright, indorsing the proposi- 
tion. 

Major Brown filled his glass, and drank heartily. 
Then replacing his cigar, he took an easy position, 
and began, smiling : — 

“ Gentlemen, I know a man who could carry 
out the colonel’s proposition, provided it is within 
the scope of human possibilities. You too, unless 
I greatly err, know the same man quite as well as 
I do. Now tell me, Gen. Bright and Col. Briggs, 
on the honor of a man, how much did you pay for 
the publication of your portrait and biography in 
that book entitled 4 Distinguished Americans ’ ? ” 

There was a pause. The colonel looked down 
his nose in silence. Gen. Bright satisfied his 
nervous disposition by refilling his glass. 

“ Come, gentlemen, we are all in the same boat. 
Now let us compare tickets,” added the major. 

“ That was a huge farce ! I am ready to confess 
here, over this glass of wine, that never before or 
since have I made such a fool of myself. I should 
like to meet that Clarkson, and give him my con- 
gratulations,” confessed the general. 

The three compared tickets as the major sug- 


162 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


gested, but found no inequality. They had been 
immortalized at five hundred a head each. There 
was no laughing one at the otheb. The circum- 
stances of the case offered no such opportunity ; 
but each felt a general sympathy for the other. 

The major persisted that the man who was 
smart enough to extract fifteen hundred dollars 
from the Melville, Morrisburg, and Mississippi 
Railroad, for the biographical immortalization of its 
three principal officers, was the man to whom 
he was ready, to commit the important trust of 
securing the appropriation. 

“The man you refer to, major, is at the — — 
House, in this city. His name is so announced in 
the evening paper,” said the colonel with some 
enthusiasm. 

“ Then,” said Gen. Bright, “ I propose that we 
appoint Major Brown to wait on him to ascertain 
on what terms we may, if at all, be able to secure 
his services for the proposed work. I rather 
approve of the major’s idea.” 

After some further conversation, this course 
was agreed upon, and the major accepted the 
charge. 

Lotta and I were reading the evening papers in 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


163 


silence at the hotel, when a bell-boy rapped at the 
door. I admitted him, and was presented with a 
neat card containing the words, — 

“A. W. Brown.” 

“ Who can it be, Lotta ? ” 

“No one that I know ; probably one of the mem- 
bers who wishes to talk business. I will retire to 
the sleeping-room, and you can receive him here.” 

I ordered the boy to show the gentleman up, 
falling in with Lotta’ s suggestion, still puzzling in 
my mind over the name. 

“ Brown, Brown ? Let me see. I have it. He 
is one of the patrons to my ‘ Distinguished Ameri- 
cans.’ What can he want ? Well, we shall see.” 
Thus I questioned myself until the visitor arrived. 

“ Mr. Clarkson, I believe. My name is ” — 

“ Major Brown ! I knew you in a moment from 
your steel engraving. Take a seat.” The ease 
with which I recognized him was no small surprise. 

“ You astonish me, Mr. Clarkson: I had no idea 
you would remember my face.” 

“ Remember your face ! My dear sir, you have a 
remarkable face. Any man who has made the 
slightest study of faces would require to see your 
portrait but once to recognize you anywhere.” * 


1 64 THAT YOUNG MAN . 

This gave him an impression of my superiority ; 
and, as it turned out, was just what I wanted to do. 

“ What brings you West, Mr. Clarkson ? Are 
you making the acquaintance of our legislators at 
the Capitol ? ” 

“ Yes, somewhat. I seem to fall in with them 
by accident. They are a jolly set of fellows.” 

“You are travelling for pleasure, I presume, Mr. 
Clarkson ? ” 

“ I make it a point to bring some pleasure out of 
most every thing I do.” 

“ Are you much acquainted in the West ? ” 

“Well, slightly.” 

“ How do you like our country and people ? ” 

“Well, very well. You have a vast country, 
inexhaustible resources, and you ate a pushing, 
energetic people.” 

Thus the major pursued his questions one after 
another, with a view to learning my business West. 
However, he was not rewarded for his pains. 

“I saw your name in the papers, and took to 
myself the liberty of calling. Indeed, I am glad 
to have met you.” And with this remark he rose, 
apparently to leave. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


i6 5 

“ I thank you very much, major, for your kind- 
ness. I am* glad you have condescended to show 
me so much attention. Will you not sit a little 
longer? Here are some excellent cigars. Take 
one, and let us smoke together.” 

I urged my invitation ; and the major accepted a 
cigar, and reseated himself. 

“ I suppose you are engaged on some new book, 
Mr. Clarkson ? ” 

“No, major: I am resting, — simply taking a 
quiet cruise among your Western cities, rather 
looking for something to turn up. Before I return, 
I shall investigate some of the many opportunities 
for investment which your country presents.” 

“ Would you care to engage your services for a 
short time in this city, Mr. Clarkson, for a particu- 
lar object ? ” 

“ What is to be done, major ? ” 

At this point we entered into each other’s confi- 
dence. He gave me the history of the Melville, 
Morrisburg, and Mississippi Railroad, and pointed 
out their present needs. 

I sympathized with him, and emphasized the 
need of immediate and substantial public aid, de- 


i66 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


fended railroads generally, and noted some inci- 
dents illustrative of their great influence for good. 

Finally we came to the point. He had confi- 
dence in my ability, I in his money. On these 
lines we were approaching rapidly to each other’s 
heart. 

He expected to gain sufficient influence for the 
passage of his appropriation bill, with about twenty 
thousand dollars. I figured a little, and manifested 
a belief that less would accomplish the desired re- 
sult. 

The subject of my compensation came up; and 
on this point I was silent. He named five thou- 
sand dollars on the condition of my success, but 
made provision for nothing in case of my failure. 
I drew his attention to this fact ; and he assured 
me that his course was in conformity with a well- 
known and long-established rule. 

I was not cowardly enough to doubt my own suc- 
cess, and agreed to his terms. We made some 
other definite arrangements, one of which was, that 
all moneys distributed were to be conveyed by 
check signed by himself, and made payable to the 
order of the parties who were to receive it. 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


167 


I agreed to this, feeling considerably relieved. 
There could be no doubt as to my integrity, since 
there would be no opportunity for deception. 

The major left, agreeing to visit my rooms daily, 
in order to keep posted, and to give me the proper 
instructions. 


1 68 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

TYROWN had no sooner retired than Lotta came 
in, greatly excited. 

“ Why, Jean, what did I hear ? ” 

“ You were not listening, were you ? ” 

“ Yes, I was. I couldn’t help it. The idea of a 
man presuming to make you such an offer ! Why, 
Jean, you are no man, or you would have ordered 
him out of the room : I am surprised ! He must 
think you are a rogue like himself ! Think of it, — 
a perfect stranger comes here, proposing to have you 
do his meanest work ! ” 

“ It was rather cool, Lotta.” 

“ And you seem to take it cool.” 

“Yes: I shall pay him in another way. I feel 
greatly encouraged since he came : there is no 
doubt of my success. In less than ten days, 
Lotta, 4 Clarkson’s Forms’ will be legalized and 
authorized. Major Brown will get his fingers 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


169 


badly burned in this matter, or I am greatly mis- 
taken.” 

I now began a scheme which ended triumph- 
antly. The major gave me his daily instructions, 
and in that way I was enabled to work to greater 
advantage. 

Most of these Western politicians, like those of 
the East, were hard drinkers. An average of three 
or five whiskeys during the day made a good foun- 
dation for excessive champagne-drinking during the 
evening. 

It was through this practice of wine-drinking that 
I could best find a pretext for private interviews. 

On one occasion I was introduced to Capt. 
Thomas, a live, wide-awake, pushing man. He 
represented a large and wealthy constituency, and 
exercised a large influence in the House. 

After exchanging salutations, I said, — 

“ Captain, have you leisure to drink a few bottles 
of champagne with me this evening ? ” 

“ I shall be busy until nine, but will be pleased to 
meet you after that.” 

“ Then come over to Parlor A, House, at 

nine, and I will have made ready.” 

The captain came on time, and we opened a bot- 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


170 

tie of Roederer. He seemed to have a special relish 
for Roederer, and could smoke two Havanas to my 
one. 

At ten o’clock we had laid aside the convention- 
alities due among strangers, and settled down to 
the more familiar customs of old friends, occasion- 
ally emphasizing our words with a friendly pelt of 
the hand on each other’s knee. 

We had thus reached the stage for business, and 
I proceeded. 

“ Captain, are you true blue ? ” 

“ True blue ! ” 

“ Square ? ” 

“ Square ! ” 

“ Then, give me your hand ! ” 

We shook hands as when people wish to recognize 
each other as in the bonds of strictest confidence. 

“ Captain, I am liberal, free-hearted, and like to 
return favor for favor. I have an axe to grind at 
this session : I want your assistance. I wish to 
lay my plan before you ; and, if you can conscien- 
tiously indorse it, — understand me, captain, I do 
not wish to insult you or any other gentleman of 
honor, — if, I say, after you have carefully weighed 
my proposals, you can indorse them as a matter of 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


171 

principle , I am willing to give you a check for one 
thousand dollars, as a sort of compensation for such 
services as you can render.” 

“ That is fair and honorable. Of course I would 
not sell my vote or my influence ; but I see 
nothing inconsistent in your proposals. What is 
your project ? ” 

“ I want to have ‘Clarkson’s Forms’ adopted.” 

“ Oh ! is that it ? I have heard something of your 
plan, and I see nothing inconsistent in it. There 
is, I think, no reason why I should not lend my 
influence to your scheme.” t 

“ If I may count on you, captain, to the last, the 
check will be paid over to-morrow.” 

“You may count on me for that, Mr. Clarkson: 
I shall take pleasure in rendering you all the assist- 
ance I can. There are some eight or ten from my 
section whose votes I can shape, — or I should say 
who depend on me for counsel in all such matters. 
I will attend to these with pleasure.” 

We closed, in this way, what some people call a 
political job. It is hard to define whether the fault 
is most with the lobbyist or the member. Certain 
it is that both are guilty. 

We opened another bottle of champagne, and 


r 7 2 ^ 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


confirmed the mutual understanding by a mutual 
drink. Before we separated, I remarked with 
affected disinterestedness, — 

“ Captain, I am told that our friends of the Mel- 
ville, Morrisburg, and Mississippi Railroad are 
after another appropriation. Can you support the 
measure ? ” 

“ I must look into the affairs of that road. 
There is a screw loose somewhere in the manage- 
ment ; but it may be we can see our way clear to 
give them assistance.” 

“ Captain, you ought to encourage railroads on 
general principles. It is true the management 
generally squander half the means at their com- 
mand foolishly; but the money is usually re-dis- 
tributed among the tax-payers, and in that way I 
see no evil that can result.” 

“ I am in favor of railroads, Mr. Clarkson ; and, 
indeed, I have, on a former occasion, voted to 
aid the Melville, Morrisburg, and Mississippi line, 
and” — 

“ And don’t you think you will do so again ? ” 

“That depends, Mr. Clarkson. I am rather 
favorable than otherwise ; and it may be I can 
indorse the proposition to grant another appro- 
priation.” 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


*73 


“ Well, captain, I am authorized to-night to offer 
you five hundred for your assistance in this matter, 
provided you can grant it consistently. You see, 
these fellows are poor, and cannot come forward as 
of old. Yet they fully appreciate your influence, 
and count you as good as fifteen in the House ; 
but, captain, they are poor, very poor. They need 
help.” 

“ Yes : they have had a hard struggle over that 
project. It was rather premature, and so many 
difficulties have come up,” added the captain, re- 
lighting his cigar. 

V Captain, let me put the whole matter into one 
check, and say that you will give these poor fellows 
a lift. They could have come down handsomer in 
days gone by, and you must take the will for bhe 
deed.” 

The Captain now becomes very sympathetic. 
He recounts some of his deeds of philanthropy and 
self-sacrifice, to ^hich I listen with profound atten- 
tion. 

Finally we open another Roederer, and order 
broiled chicken on toast, which is brought to our 
room. At twelve o’clock lunch was over, and we 
poured over it a benediction of champagne. 


I 74 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


The captain lighted another cigar, and re- 
marked, — 

“ I will support Gen. Bright’s application for an 
additional appropriation, out of sympathy for the 
enterprise. The general has worked hard in the 
matter, and deserves our support. There are, per- 
haps, some reasons why his application should be 
refused, but we must give him another lift.” 

“You are right, captain. It would be hard to 
throw the road aside -now. It is for the interests 
of the whole State that it be completed at the 
earliest possible day.” 

At length the captain took my hand in a “ good- 
night ; ” and I verbally assured him that on the 
following day I would pass over the check for 
fiffeen hundred, and added, that, as we had been 
together in this way, I would manage so as to give 
him the check of some disinterested man, which I 
could do by exchanging my own for it. He ap- 
proved, and we separated. 

At one o’clock I rapped at the door of my room, 
but Lotta made no answer. I rapped again, still 
louder, and yet there was no stir or noise within. 
Again and again I rapped, with like results, until 
at length the key turned, but the door was not 
opened. 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


*75 


This was the signal for an approaching storm. 
Lotta had retired, after waiting patiently for two 
hours. She had not closed her eyes, but wished to 
manifest her disappointment by keeping me about 
so long at the door, as if asleep. 

I entered, and locked the door after me. Then 
passing into the sleeping-room, I prepared for re- 
tiring. 

No words were exchanged. Lotta lay against 
the wall, at the back part of the bed. I reclined 
on the front, leaving a space of at least three feet 
between us. 

In a few moments, under the influence of the 
evening’s dissipation, I fell asleep. 

Lotta, as was her custom after waiting a reason- 
able time for my. confession, and failing to receive 
it, began to cry. I did not heed her, and she cried 
still louder. 

After half an hour of this performance, she dis- 
covered I was asleep. It was no longer any use to 
cry. In this dilemma she rose, and, throwing a shawl 
about her shoulders, passed into the parlor, and sat 
down before the fire. 

The noise which she purposely inflicted, dis- 
missed my sleep. Of course I missed Lotta. In 


176 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


alarm, I followed her to the parlor, and found ber in 
a crying attitude. 

I talked to her tenderly, and she cried as one 
suffering the pangs of grief. Then followed an 
explanation, an apology, and some pet names. 

At three o’clock we retired, perfectly reconciled. 
I had promised never again to remain out after ten 
o’clock ; she never again to sulk when imperative 
business kept me from her even beyond that hour. 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


177 


CHAPTER XXV. 

TN a few days the major called, and I gave him 
an account of my experiences with the captain. 
I began in this way : — 

“ Major, I am becoming more hopeful. How 
many votes do you think Capt. Thomas can carry 
with him, in case he should throw his utmost influ- 
ence with you ? ” 

“ A good many. He is very influential ; and, be- 
sides, I should regard his coming over to us as a 
considerable stroke. We have regarded him as an 
enemy.” 

“And well you might have. I wish, major, you 
had been a mouse in the crack during the conver- 
sation we had the other night.” 

“ Was he very bitter ? ” 

“ Bitter ! You are probably aware how he some- 
times indulges in profanity, are you not, major ? ” 

“ He does swear wretchedly sometimes,” replied 
Major Brown uneasily. 


178 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


“Well, he never reached the climax until I 
brought this Melville, Morrisburg, and Mississippi 
Railroad scheme to his notice last evening/' 

“ Oh ! I knew he was opposed to granting us 
further aid/' 

“ I should say he was." 

“ Then, you could do nothing with him ? ” he 
asked in surprise. 

“ I found him a more difficult case than I expected 
to encounter in the whole battle. But, major, let 
me tell you that this very day his enthusiasm in 
favor of an additional appropriation will overreach 
that of your best friends." 

“You astonish me!" exclaimed Major Brown, 
rising to his feet in amazement. “ Will he really 
work for us ? " 

“ You may depend on him," I answered. “ There 
is no man in the legislature who will do more, — 
few, indeed, who can do more." 

“I had not expected this. It seems to me, Mr. 
Clarkson, you have surmounted the greatest diffi- 
culty." 

“ I had to come down handsomely, however." 

“Of course, of course. How much did you 
promise, — a thousand?" asked the interested rail 
road man, greatly agitated. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


179 


“ He is to have a check to-day for fifteen hun- 
dred. I also want five-hundred-dollar checks for 
Hosman, Biglow, French, Bowman, Brigham, 
O’Brien, Fitzpatrick, Harrison, McCormick, and 
Lindsay; and two-hundred-dollar checks for Pat- 
terson, Welsh, Lynch, O’Hara, McGinness, McLel- 
lan, Rice, Packard, Dyer, White, Plarland, and 
McFadden.” 

“ Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Clarkson, these 
men are all for us at the amounts you name ? ” 
asked the major, thoroughly bewildered. 

“ I mean just that.” 

“ How could you have gone through the House 
in so short a time ? ” 

“ Our only hope is in pushing the matter through 
as fast as possible. Should there be any delays, 
we will have newspaper mouths to stop, and it will 
require another twenty-thousand-dollar plug for 
them. You can see, by the names I have given 
you, that we are all safe so far as the House is con- 
cerned. My plan is to have this bill pass that body 
at once. Before it reaches the Senate", major, I 
will have that honorable body prepared to receive 
it. Senators, as a rule, have more principle than 
members of the House ; and I will need the pres- 


180 THAT YOUNG MAN. 

tige of their support to the bill among those gen- 
tlemen.” 

“ I like your plan, Mr. Clarkson ; but are you 
working within your means ? ” The major was fig- 
uring closely. 

“ Certainly : eight thousand nine hundred for 
the House, and eleven thousand one hundred for 
the Senate. I have made the apportionment to the 
best of my ability.” 

After further conversation, the major handed me 
the required checks, and I spent the day distribut- 
ing them among the members, reminding each, in 
turn, that I expected a box of Havanas sent around 
to Parlor C, House, for my benefit. 

The noble legislators received their hire with 
concealed, yet at the same time pronounced, grati- 
tude, and smiled an assent to my ingenious hint 
for the cigars. 

If the reader will multiply my experience with 
Capt. Thomas by the number of names given above, 
he will learn two things ; viz., first, how lobbying 
is done, and what it is done for; second, how I 
succeeded in getting my authorization of the 
“Clarkson Forms” through the House at the ex- 
pense of the Melville, Morrisburg, and Mississippi 
Railroad company. 


THAT YOUNG MAN . 181 

One evening, on returning to the hotel, the clerk 
wanted to know if I had gone into the cigar busi- 
ness. I told him no, and wanted a reason for such 
an inquiry. He assured me that some ten or 
fifteen boxes of cigars had been sent in, all for my 
room. 

“ These are a reward of merit, such as Sunday- 
school superintendents distribute to faithful chil- 
dren, only of a different character: keep mum, 
and I will remember you at the proper time.” 

“ Mum’s the word ! ” he replied. I entered the 
elevator, and was soon with Lotta. 

“ Jean, what has happened ? ” 

“ Nothing, I hope.” 

“Here are twelve boxes of cigars,” she continued. 
“ The boy persisted, each time, that they were for 
you ; and I was forced to receive them. What does 
it mean ? ” 

I explained the matter to Lotta. She laughed 
heartily, and concluded, that, if the modern legisla- 
tor was a knave and a fool, he was also generous. 
Then she gave me a sound lecturing, comparing 
my conduct with sound orthodoxy, much to my 
shame. 

She feared I was not prepared to die, and mani- 


182 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


fested some anxiety as to whether we should ever 
meet in the better land. 

I consoled her with the thought, that, should I 
fail in a safe landing on the other shore, she would 
not have to endure in eternity the tortures of time, 
as she surely would in case I succeeded in the eter- 
nityward voyage. 

But my cruel nonsense found no response in 
Lotta. She believed, and she was right, that the 
Devil was at the bottom of all legislatures, as well 
as all railroads, and taunted me with being his 
emissary. 

At this point my patience failed, or, to be more 
faithful, my temper did not fail. A few harsh 
words followed, such as even a lobbyist ought not 
to use, and then Lotta broke out into a cry. 

This terminated the quarrel, and we began a 
reconciliation at once. In two minutes we had 
kissed, and I agreed that the dark stripe would be 
most appropriate for her new polonaise. 

The bill for the legalization of “ Clarkson’s 
Forms” came up in the House on the same day that 
the act to grant further aid to the Melville, Mor- 
risburg, and Mississippi Railroad was introduced. 
Both progressed, in turn, to a final reading, without 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


183 

much opposition. Speeches were made, in opposi- 
tion to both, by certain members whom I had 
thought it unwise to call on ; but these worthless 
contributions were unheeded. 

Capt. Thomas made a fine address in favor of 
the “ Clarkson Forms,” and pointed out wherein 
they would save thousands of dollars to the State 
annually. I could not see just wherein the saving 
was provided for, nor did his colleagues, nor, in- 
deed, do I believe the speaker saw it ; but the bill 
passed with a good majority. 

The Melville, Morrisburg, and Mississippi 
Railroad appropriation did not fare quite so well, 
though it swung through on a majority of fifteen, 
with much opposition that was calculated to tell 
against us in the Senate. 

My operations in the Upper House were pleas- 
ant ; and, when I gave Major Brown a list of the 
senators for whom checks were required, it was 
found that he would have one thousand dollars left. 
Concerning this, I said, — 

“ Major, I have a recommendation to offer.” 

"I shall be glad to hear it, Mr. Clarkson.” 

“ There is hardly a doubt of the success of our 
bill in the Senate, but the matter will not come up 


184 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


for three days. Should the press come down upon 
us in the mean time, we might suffer defeat. Now, 
let us divide the remaining one thousand between 
the two leading dailies. This done, we are sure of 
victory.” 

“ I quite agree with your suggestion ; and no one 
is better qualified to manage this little affair than 
yourself. Here are the checks for the senators ; 
and here also are two checks, one for each paper, 
dividing the thousand equally between them, as 
you propose. I trust that in one week you will be 
able to attend a champagne supper with the officers 
of the road, in Morrisburg, when we shall cele- 
brate together our success.” 

“ I shall be with you on that occasion if possible, 
major. There is now no doubt of our triumph.” 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


i»5 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

' | "'HERE was pleasure in the work of distribut- 

-*• ing the checks among the honorable senators, 
% 

not only for the distributer, but also for the distin- 
guished gentlemen who received them. I did not 
fail to mention the cigars, nor did they fail to re- 
spond. 

The mission among the newspapers also afforded 
some enjoyment. I was probably the better lobby- 
ist in that quarter. A brief sketch of my experi- 
ence with one will present both cases, for they were 
not dissimilar. 

I was admitted to the sanctum of the* editor-in- 
chief, and began, — 

“ Mr. Editor, I have a matter here that I wish 
written up. I desire you to look it over ; and, if 
you can indorse it conscientiously, I will pay you 
handsomely.” 

“ What is it ? ” he inquired. 


i86 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


I explained that it was “ Clarkson’s Forms,” re- 
minded him that the matter had gone through the 
House, and would come up in the Senate in a day 
or two. 

He looked over the samples I presented, and at 
once gave them his warmest commendation. 

“ I can recommend these,” he said, “ on princi- 
ple.” 

This opened the way. I manifested my readiness 
to hand over three hundreS on the spot, provided 
three columns could be devoted to a description 
and recommendation of my scheme. 

This was agreed upon, and I gave the assistant- 
editor some points for the article. 

Then, closeting myself once more with the chief, 
I became philanthropic, remarking that Gen. Bright 
was striving to get another appropriation for his 
road. 

The edftor did not believe the bill could be car- 
ried through the Senate. I joined him in this sen- 
timent, adding that it might be accomplished with 
the assistance of his paper. 

He was also of opinion that much influence for 
or against the scheme might emanate from his pen. 

I mentioned that recently I had become inter- 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


187 


ested in the road, and would like to see the. bill 
become a law, and concluded by offering to raise 
my three hundred to five if the editor would give 

the road an editorial send-off in the next issue of 

/ 

his paper. 

In this, as in all other cases, I based my proposi- 
tion on the proviso that he could indorse the road 
and its wants on principle. 

We agreed : I passed over the check; and on the 
following day each journal contained three columns 
of “ Clarkson’s Forms ” and a half column of Mel- 
ville, Morrisburg, and Mississippi Railroad. 

The “ Clarkson Forms ” bill passed the Senate 
with a two-thirds majority two days before the 
Melville, Morrisburg, and Mississippi Railroad 
appropriation act came up ; but I stood by the ship 
until the last sail should be reefed. 

I realized, that, but for the needs of this unfortu- 
nate railroad, my own scheme would have failed 
utterly. Therefore, since the success of my own 
plans was indebted to the generosity of these men, 
I determined to watch their interests faithfully. 

The appropriation bill reached a third reading, 
and became the subject of a red-hot discussion, 
on a Friday : the Senate was to adjourn at six 


1 88 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


o’clock, until the following Tuesday. The enemies 
of the road began a determined skirmish ; but the 
well-paid votaries of our cause outflanked their 
foes, and at a quarter to six, only fifteen minutes 
before the hour of adjournment, the bill was con- 
curred in, and the appropriation of five hundred 
thousand dollars to the Melville, Morrisburg, and 
Mississippi Railroad became a matter of history. 

The general, the colonel, and the major were in 
town, as also were many friends of the road ; and 
the whole party indulged themselves in a wine 
supper at a leading hotel the same evening. 

The major arranged for my going to Morrisburg 
to attend a sort of private banquet to be given by 
the road as a token of appreciation for my services ; 
but I declined the honor, excusing myself on the 
ground of important engagements which would 
compel me to leave the city on Saturday. 

Learning this, the officers of the road lost no 
time in preparing for my entertainment on the 
evening of their success. I agreed to meet them 
at ten o’clock. 

There was just one little difficulty in the way. 
Lotta did not want me to attend. I explained the 
whole matter; and, had it not been for the five 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


189 


thousand dollars which I expected to receive on 
the occasion, her consent would not have been 
given. 

Promising to give her half the money, not to 
drink any wine, and to be home by twelve o’clock, 
she reluctantly consented. 

The party consisted of some twenty persons, all 
of *whom were fond of champagne, and most of 
them of cigars. 

We drank and talked and smoked until twelve 
o’clock, when most of the friends retired. At that 
hour, in company with the three railroad officers, I 
was conducted to an adjoining room, where we sat 
down to an elegant luncheon. 

When we had refreshed ourselves, the general 
rose with some formality, and began to clear his 
throat. 

“Gentlemen,” he began, “here is to a book 
called ‘ Distinguished Americans.’ The author is 
a genius, and his patrons are asses.” 

We all drank to the sentiment, amid roars of 
laughter. Then the general, in an easy and out- 
spoken way, confessed his admiration for the 
scheme, and his distaste for the principle which led 
him and so many others to become its victims. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


190 

He was careful at the same time to enforce the 
idea that no offence was intended. 

Col. Briggs followed with, — 

“ The Melville, Morrisburg, and Mississippi 
Railroad, and its benefactor, Mr. Jean Clarkson.” 

The sentiment was drank heartily, and some 
curious comments were indulged concerning the 
relations which I sustained to the- road. 

Major Brown followed, in a toast to my health, 
which was enthusiastically drank. Then he pre- 
sented the draft for five thousand dollars, my 
reward, according to previous agreement, in a neat 
little speech, in which he paid me a handsome com- 
pliment, and acknowledged himself and his col- 
leagues still my debtors. 

We drank all round once more. The trio waited 
patiently, expecting my reply. This I gave them, 
saying, — 

“ Gentlemen, fill your glasses.” 

They obeyed, and I continued, — 

“ The Legislature and the Press. The purity of 
the first is excelled only by the consistency of the 
last. We recognize in both our country’s hope.” 

They all drank heartily, amid roars of laughter. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


I 9 i 

i 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

T RETURNED from the wine-supper at four 
o’clock in the morning. Lotta had retired, but 
awaited my coming with tearful and sleepless eyes. 

She would not be comforted : my best endeavors 
were futile. 

“O Jean! Jean! I would rather have a humble 
home in some secluded country-spot, and live on 
bread and water, than endure this ! ” 

“ What is the matter, Lotta? what have I done ? ” 

“You are going to ruin: I know it! Fasci- 
nated by speculation, unholy and unjust, you drown 
your sense of honor in the accursed wine, and rush 
madly on ! ” 

“ What in the world do you mean, Lotta ? ” I 
became impatient under her wholesale denuncia- 
tions, and took her to task in a tone of self-defence. 

I offered her the draft for five thousand dollars, 
and she cast it from her in frantic abhorrence. 


192 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


“ I despise the wages of your unholy service ! ” 

The draft narrowly escaped the fire, but I rescued 
it untarnished. 

“ Jean, you will never be permitted to enjoy this 
ill-gotten money. Something has told me to-night 
that there is trouble ahead, and I feel sure we are 
to meet an unexpected calamity soon.” 

Lotta had spent the night alone with God and 
her Bible. The Good Spirit had shown her the 
true character of my speculations, and given her a 
forecast of their oncoming reward. 

I used my best energies to console her spirit, but 
to no avail. The morning light sent its first rays 
into our room, and found her still sobbing with 
grief, while by her side, buried in sleep superin- 
duced by dissipation, I lay, unconscious of her sor- 
row. 

Partially raising herself, she looked anxiously into 
my wine-flushed face ; then lifting her eyes heaven- 
ward, she prayed as only heart of helpless woman 
can, imploring Him with whom is all power and all 
grace to save me from the snares into which my 
strange speculations were rapidly leading me. 

There was nothing which 'she was not ready to 
yield up to perfect the condition, necessary to se- 
cure the answer to her prayer. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


193 


“ Save him from sin, not in my way, but in thine 
own way ; but save him now ! If it be # necessary, 
take from us these ill-gotten gains ! Give us a 
home in poverty and obscurity, — even in want and 
humiliation, — if only with these thou canst bring 
him to thyself. I freely give up all ! ’tis all I have ; 
I would that it were more ! but give me my hus- 
band free from sin. Till this be done, I pray for- 
ever more ! ” 

Thus pleaded the sorrowing Lotta, as the morn- 
ing light came gently forth, — the hour in which 
most great prayers have been greatly answered. 
Nor prayed she in vain. 

A spirit softly whispered, “Thy prayer is an- 
swered: fear not; for it is your Fathers good 
pleasure to give him the kingdom.” Thus re- 
lieved, she fell back in patient waiting for the 
coming of the Lord. 

There is no power this side of heaverP strong 
enough to face the prayers of a holy Christian 
wife : at her command the angels wait in anxious 
preparation to execute th<^ errands of love and 
mercy : and these are often consummated through 
tears, sorrow, affliction, and sometimes death. 

The days and weeks, and months followed. A 


194 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


large establishment in a well-known Western city 
had been fully equipped in every department for 
printing and binding. 

Presses large and small, dry presses, cutting- 
machines, type, and kindred apparatus, all were in 
position. A large stock of blank paper reached 
in huge piles the ceiling of the store-room. Nearly 
two hundred thousand dollars were thus invested. 

Orders had accumulated for “Clarkson’s Forms ” 
to the extent of tnany thousand dollars, and many 
an anxious inquiry had come protesting our delays. 

At length all was in readiness. The wheels 
began to turn, the cylinders to revolve, the huge 
knives to raise and fall, when lo ! in the midnight 
hour, a fire, kindled, methinks, in answer to that 
morning prayer, by the hand of some devoted 
angel it may be, sent its devouring flames from 
basement to roof in torrid, melting madness, until 
type, presses, and their kindred machinery, rolled 
together in one shapeless, useless mass of ruin. 

On the day previous, we had decided as to the 
amount and the companies for our needed insur- 
ance ; but the devouring element left us no time 
wherein to execute the belated decision. 

Once more all was gone. The last dollar had 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


*95 


been invested.^ Nor was this all. Fifty thousand 
dollars of debt had been incurred by the new firm 
for money borrowed, or materials bought. 

“ God has done it, Jean.” 

I made no reply. 

“ It is all for your good.” 

I answered nothing. 

“He will take from us that which comes by 
unfair means. % The wicked shall not prosper,” 
continued Lotta. 

I was dumb, and could answer nothing; almost 
discouraged, yet not altogether. This was the 
hardest blow of my life. Notwithstanding all my 
triumphs, I was now penniless and in debt. 

Lotta endeavored to show me the wrong of my 
money-getting plans ; declared that my schemes 
were unholy, and such as Heaven could not bless. 

She used arguments which I had no means of 
answering, and convinced me that there is no short- 
cut to wealth unattended by dangers and disasters. 

Let every one just starting in life, who reads 
this little book, learn lessons of wisdom from the 
mistakes of that young man. 


196 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

OTTA’S time had now fully come. She set 



herself fully at work, in the hope that through 
her counsel she might give me a proper view of my- 
self. She had never felt satisfied with my moral 
standing, and had become settled in the belief that 
my prosperity was not real. 

Lotta was a true Christian, a consistent church- 
member, and a faithful wife. She loved her hus- 
band, notwithstanding his faults, and hoped for his 
final rescue from every besetting mistake, in the 
face of his wildest and most unscrupulous schemes. 

She was not the woman ever to despair. With 
a tireless patience, she could wait through the 
long years for the triumph of her cause. With 
God on her side, she had a majority, and was will- 
ing to suffer temporary defeat for the sake of per- 
manent victory. 

Few men are able to estimate the value of a 


TH7L T YOUNG MAN. 


T 97 


good woman. Few give them credit for the power 
and talents they possess. 

I was brilliant, but Lotta was substantial ; I elo- 
quent, she devoted. I talked much, and was act- 
ive ; she thought much, and was quiet. I had 
knowledge, she wisdom ; I tact, she talent. 

She did not mourn over my loss, but rather to 
her it seemed a relief ; and I could not understand 
it. All had been swept away, and we were in 
debt ; yet Lotta appeared happier than she had for 
years before. 

I had been out all day, trying to re-organize my 
business affairs, but with no satisfactory result. 
Evening had come, and the world seemed dark and 
cold. I returned to Lotta, and tried to comfort 
myself in the thought that she was not disheart- 
ened. . 

“ Why are you so happy, Lotta, under our mis- 
fortune ? ” I asked. 

“ Because it is more honorable not to have, and 
yet deserve, than to have, and not deserve.” 

“ Why, Lotta, you must have been reading 
Shakspeare or one of the moral philosophers ! ” 

“Yes, Jean, and for your benefit. It was Shak- 
speare who wrote, — 


198 THAT YOUNG MAN. 

‘ To mourn a mischief that is past and gone, 

Is the next way to draw new mischief on. 

What cannot be preserved when fortune takes, 

Tatience her injury a mockery makes. 

The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief : 
He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.’ ” 

✓ 

“I wish I could appreciate your good humor, 
Lotta ; but I am sad, half discouraged. I do not 
understand it.” 

“ Jean, did it never occur to you, that misfortune 
and misconduct were born twins ? ” 

“ What do you mean, Lotta ? ” 

“ That your faults are the parent of your woes.” 
“Why, Lotta, do you pretend to say that I 
deserve this, that I have earned it ? ” 

“ Have you no faults, Jean ? ” 

“Yes, I suppose I have : all have faults, more or 
less.” 

“ .Have you no great faults ? ” 

“ No!” 

“No?” 

“ Why, Lotta, what have I done ? ” 

“You shall answer that yourself, Jean. Listen 
patiently, while I put you to the test. Will you let 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


199 


“Yes; goon.” 

“No. 1. Keep good company or none . Be honest, 
and answer, Jean.” 

“ Well — I — well, call it doubtful .” 

“Yes, Jean, we will call it doubtful ’” 

“No. 2. Never be idle. Answer.” 

“Yes, I’m never idle: all right this time. Go 
on.” 

“That is a fact, Jean. It is true, you are never 
idle. I hope you will measure as well all the way 
through. Well, No. 3. Always speak the truth. 
Answer.” 

“Doubtful!' 

“ Why, Jean, do you ever lie ? ” 

“ Well, no, — that is, I used to tell those railroad 
men and legislators some pretty tough stories.” 

“Then, Jean, is not that a great fault ?” 

“ Well, go on. What’s next ? ” 

“No. 4. Make few promises , and live up to your 
engagements. Answer. 

“ Fair to middling. Go on.” 

“No. 5. Drink no kind of intoxicating liquors . 
Answer, Jean.” 

“ O Lotta ! I give it up. Go on.” 

“No. 6. Always live within your means. An- 
swer.” 


200 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


“ I pass. Go on, Lotta, go on.” 

“No. 7. Make no haste to be rich if you would 
prosper . Answer.” 

“ I give that up too. Go on.” 

“ No. 8. Avoid temptation through fear that you 
will not be able to withstand it. Answer.” 

“ O Lord ! Give us No. 9.” 

“Well, No. 9. Never run in debt unless you see 
plainly a way to get out again. Answer.” 

“ Floored ! Give us No. 10.” 

“Well, No. 10. Be just before you are generous. 
Answer.” 

“ I can’t. Give me the next number.” 

“No. 11. Read some portion of the Bible every 
day!' 

' “ Go on, Lotta : it is' getting worse and worse.” 

“Well, No. ^2. Never swear y never deceive. 
Answer.” 

“ Hold on, Lotta ! give us a rest.” 

“Very well : what do you think of your measure- 
ment, Jean ? ” 

“It’s a tight fit: you have drawn it too hard. 
Say, Lotta, where did you get hold of those twelve 
ideas ? ” 

“ Do you not think me capable of having twelve 
ideas, Jean ? ” 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


201 


“ I didn’t, honestly ; not such as you have just 
uttered. You’re a philosopher.” 

“ And what are you, Jean ? ” 

“ I’m busted, ruined in fortune ; and, according 
to your twelve inches , I don’t measure a foot in ” — 

“ Moral character ? ” 

“ Well, Lotta, I suppose that’s what you call it. 
You are always talking about morals, or religion, 
or something good. Lotta, you are a true, good 
little woman. Women ought to be good. Men 
would never love them if they were not.” 

“ Suppose we should reverse your words, Jean, 
and say men ought to be good : women would not 
love them if they were not.” 

“ Lotta, you are mighty sharp to-night. You 
must have eaten the philosopher’s stone. It is all 
well enough to talk about morality ; but you can’t 
live on jt. You see we are penniless ; and with us 
it’s a matter of dollars and cents.” 

“ You wrong yourself, Jean. Man is to be rated, 
not by his hoards of gold, not by the simple or 
temporary influence which he may for the time 
exert, but by his unexceptional principles, relative 
both to character and religion. Take these away, 
and you take his manship. To be great is to be 
good ; to be good is to be wise.” 


202 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


“You are right, Lotta ; and you are both good 
and wise. I am nobody, nothing. Here you are, 
with just as much to make yoii valuable as ever. 
Here I am : having lost my money, I’ve lost all. 
Lotta, you know more than I do.” 

“ Do you believe that, Jean ? ” 

“ Yes, I do. I mean, you are wiser than I am.” 

“ Then, if you believe I am wiser than you are, 
why will you not heed my advice ? ” 

“ It seems like getting henpecked to take a 
woman’s advice ; but, Lotta, I’ll tell you what I’ll 
do. There’s a screw loose somewhere. A careful 
examination of the past has convinced me that there 
is something wrong. I believe, that, in the long 
run, the right triumphs, and wrong fails or gets de- 
feated. I have made up my mind to take your 
advice for one year, as an experiment.” 

“ Will you, Jean ? Truly, will you ? ” 4 

“Yes. I give you my word.” 

“Think carefully, Jean. Remember that stub- 
born will. Now think, and then tell me again.” 

“ Yes, Lotta, I will.” 

“Kiss me on it, Jean. I want some pledge by 
which I can hold you.” 

We kissed. And, so far as I was able, I passed 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


203 


myself over into Lotta’ s management; for I was 
thoroughly sick of myself. 

“ May I begin now, Jean ? ” 

“ Yes, but go careful ; no fooling.” 

“All right. It is time to retire. Read a chapter 
for me in the Bible.” 

“ Oh, pshaw, Lotta ! don’t go to fooling ! ” 

“ Fooling ? Do you call reading the Bible fool- 
ing ? ” 

“ No, but — come. I am sleepy ; let us retire.” 

“ Then you are going to break your promise on 
the very start ? ” 

“No, I won’t;” and I took the Bible from her 
hand, and opened it, feeling very foolish, and began 
to read. The chapter I hit on explained the differ- 
ence between the house built Upon a rock, and that 
built upon the sand. Lotta tried to apply the les- 
son, and I thought it was mot altogether inappro- 
priate. 

“ Now, Jean, let us say our prayers. I have had 
to pray alone these ten years, and I don’t propose 
to do it any more.” 

“ Lotta, if you carry this thing too far, I will 
throw up the contract, and give it up. There is no 
use making a fool of yourself and me too.” 


204 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


“ Oh ! then you think it foolish to pray, Jean ? ” 

“ No, it is all right to pray ; but there is a time 
and a place for every thing.” 

“It seems like a good place right here, and the 
time could not be more appropriate. Come, Jean, 
you may say it all over to yourself, and jio one will 
know a word of it but the Lord.” 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


205 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

npiME rolled steadily on. For one year and 
more Lotta had had her own way in nearly 
every thing. In a few instances my rebellious 
nature would not submit, but in each case the con- 
sequent unrest spoke eloquently in her favor. 

I had forsaken all kinds of business entirely, and 
had accepted a position as librarian in a well-known 
Western State institution. The salary was two 
thousand dollars a year ; but with this income, and 
with, Lotta’s management, we could save about 
twenty dollars a week. 

It was a year of resignation, of trial, of self- 
sacrifice, of humiliation. My nature was strong, 
and, lashed into a foam by onsweeping temptations, 
its yearning billows ran mountain high ; but the 
firm hand of Lotta was sufficient to hold the helm. 
We braved the tempest through many storms, 
fought many battles, and won many victories, that 
the world knew not of. 


206 


THAT YOUNG MAH. 


Settled in our quiet, humble home, I had much 
to endure, much to resist, to overcome. The 
tempter was often an intruding guest. There were 
hours when I could see no real good in restraint ; 
but the cloud would pass, and the sunshine of peace 
and humble joy reveal the merit of Lotta’s advice. 

I struggled on. One after another, I put my 
faults under my feet. From smoking four times a 
day, I came down to twice, finally once, and then 
gave it up altogether. Trivial as this may seem, 
it was one of the hardest struggles I had to endure ; 
and had it not been for Lotta’s wise management, 
in leading me step by step, I should never have 
graduated out of the evil. 

In one bold stroke, I threw all kinds of wine 
and liquors overboard. This was less difficult with 
me than would have been the case with others, yet 
it was by no means easy. There were times when 
Satan, incarnated in the alluring glass, came sur- 
rounded by honorable associations, in the reception 
or at the party ; and on more than one occasion I 
had to look into Lotta’s face for my latitude and 
longitude. There were, with me, times of honest 
doubt as to what was right and wrong ; with Lotta, 
never. I often found her as hard a master as the 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


207 


idea of submitting at all to be governed by the 
advice of a woman. 

This latter feeling, however, was the most insur- 
mountable difficulty. “ A man who cannot govern 
himself is not a man ! ” would often rise in irre- 
sistible fury, and manifest itself in disobedience of 
the most benevolent restraint ; but beneath the 
mild yet powerful sway of Lotta’s persuasive, win- 
ning arguments, it would sink again into remorse 
and defeat. 

What my greatest difficulty was, it may be, is 
your greatest fault, — that of being unable to con- 
trol myself, and refusing to acknowledge it. Few 
people are willing to admit the need of outside power 
to the accomplishment of self-control : yet until 
they come to this admission they cannot hope to 
inaugurate any degree of self-government. 

The greatest temptation, the one most difficult 
of defeat, came in the shape of opportunities to 
embark in speculation and business. On one occa- 
sion I received the following letter : — 

187-. 

Jean Clarkson, Esq.. 

Dear Sir , — Your name has been mentioned to me in 
the strictest confidence by Major Brown, of the Melville, 


208 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


Morrisburg, and Mississippi Railroad, as the person whom 
we should secure to attend the ensuing Congress in behalf 
of our road. We will afford you an opportunity to make a 
large amount; and, if disengaged, we would like to hear 
from you at once. 

Very respectfully, 

W. P. F. Dodge. 

At first I resolved to break away from Lotta’ s 
restraint, and go to Washington in behalf of 
Dodge’s dodge ; and, no doubt, would have done 
so, had an opportunity presented itself for carrying 
out the resolution without her knowledge. 

At length, armed with many ingenious arguments, 
I laid the whole matter before Lotta, and sought 
her consent. 

“ Why, Jean, we have laid up nearly a thousand 
dollars the past year, and have had all we needed. 
Why race after money ? Our quiet little home, 
with hosts of friends, and plenty to supply our 
wants, is far to be set above the excitements of 
city life.” 

Thus Lotta persuaded and wooed until I was 
led to send the following reply to the letter re- 
ceived : — 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


209 


Library, 


-187- 


W. P. F. Dodge, Esq. 

Dear Sir, — I beg to acknowledge the receipt of your 

letter of ; and in reply I most respectfully decline the 

offer you make. 

I have the honor to be, sir, 

Your most obedient servant, 

Jean Clarkson. 


In like manner were crushed many a fair temp- 
tation. Through each battle my little general led 
me to final victory. She would not compromise 
with wrong, and in her strength I dared to do 
right. 

“ Lotta,” I said one day, “ I don’t like this kind 
of life. I would rather not live than to live out 
the principles of another. I must be myself, what- 
ever that is : I cannot be another. I must vindi- 
cate my individuality ; and hereafter you must not 
treat me as if I were not able to manage my own 
affairs.” 

“ O Jean ! I never did that. I can prove to you, 
this very day, that you are a man of your word ; 
and that is worfh feeling proud of. You can make 
a promise ; but, better yet, you can keep it.” 

“ What do you mean, Lotta ? ” 

“ I mean that one year ago you promised to take 


210 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


my advice for one year, and you have kept your 
promise like a man. I think more of you for that 
than any thing you have ever done. It is the 
greatest triumph of your life.” 

Lotta continued, “ One year ago you put the 
government into my hands. It was only for one 
year : to-day I yield it up to you. I have done the 
best I could. The only reward I ask is that you 
will acknowledge that I have discharged the trust 
faithfully, devotedly, loyally, in accordance with 
my obligations. You, Jean, are the constituency. 
By limitation the power goes back into your hands. 
It is true I am a candidate for re-election, but I 
will rest my claim on your good sense and on the 
merits of my record. Vote, Jean!” 

“ Lotta, consider yourself re-elected for another 
term of one year ; and I will inaugurate your second 
administration with a kiss.”. 

There was a power in Lotta’ s logic which touched 
my heart. Had any other person on the earth 
dared to treat me with half the presumption, blows 
would have followed words in quick succession. 

How true it is that a wife may be the queen of 
her home, the ruler of her husband ! But this 
queenship does not come of force. The homage 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


2 1 1 


paid it is not compelled. It is a divine queenship, 
but it does not come by inheritance. A woman may 
have a right to rule in her own home, but she can 
never exercise it by force. A king may have a 
right to rule over his subjects, but he cannot long 
possess his throne against their will. Christ was 
born a king, but the additional kingship which he 
won by his wonderful life and sacrificial death is 
far brighter. 

In such matters as these Lotta was a philoso- 
pher. In the wisdom of her plans she never ob- 
jected to any thing, or set up her opinions or wishes 
in direct opposition to mine. She never opposed, 
— always persuaded; never complained when her 
wishes were unheeded, but sympathized when the 
opposite course brought disaster. Such a creature 
would have won obedience from the hardest and 
most wilful of natures. She conquered mine. 


212 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


CHAPTER XXX. 

T PULLED through another year under Lotta’s 
direction ; but long before it expired, her re- 
straints were not required. I had exchanged my 
librarianship for a different calling, and entered a 
sphere of life down from which I could look upon 
the speculations of the past with thankfulness to 
Lotta that she had ever won me from them. 

I had come into an experience, which, added to 
the scenes that made up the active years of my 
life, qualified me for the position of counsellor to 
all young men ; and I determined, having already 
travelled too far in the wrong direction, to lift my 
voice and wield my pen in quiet but earnest en- 
deavors for the benefit of young men everywhere. 

To me a young man at the age of eighteen or 
twenty was an interesting object. In his boasting 
language I could hear the wail of coming defeat, 
in a deep but profound tone, far below the exulting 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


213 


strains of imaginary triumph. I could measure 
his talents, weigh his words, estimate his charac- 
ter, and predict his future, as only one having my 
experiences could. 

My heart ached for the smart young men. Of 
all grades of young men, the brilliant are in the 
most danger. Few if any fail to meet early disas- 
ter ; and, of all people, this class rest most uneasily 
under defeat. 

His danger lies in his smartness, in his bril- 
liancy ; and his danger to others lies in the same 
things. The young lady of the day turns from the 
quiet, honest, non-prodigal young man, with a toss 
of her queenly head, for she can see nothing in 
him worthy of admiration ; while, on the other 
hand, she pays a willing homage at the shrine of 
prodigal genius. 

Hence the smart young, man is a snare to all 
young ladies. He first attracts, then charms, and 
finally too often deceives them ; and, if not inten- 
tionally, by turning out to be only half the man his 
surface tact represented him to be. 

He is a snare to himself, and universally falls 
a victim to his smartness. Petted by his friends, 
falsely esteemed by hosts of deluded admirers, he 


214 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


fills with conceit, under the weight of which he 
sinks into disgrace. 

The smart young man is constantly making mis- 
takes. Heedless of conservative advice, regardless 
of past experience, he rushes on in visionary plan- 
nings after impracticable objects, only to meet the 
most cruel failures. 

If he turns to business pursuits, he will over- 
reach and fall in the first fluctuation of the market, 
and he is just the man whom debt will most perse- 
cute. 

If he starts out into professional life, he will 
lean over some precipice of adventure, until, los- 
ing his balance, he falls headlong, to be dashed and 
torn upoij the solid rocks below. Put him where 
you will, and he is constantly over-reaching, over- 
doing himself. 

And yet, after all, this young man — this very 
smart young man — if he can only subject his 
intellectual zeal and emotional strength to such a 
benevolent restraint as will keep his actions in 
harmony with even the most radical possibilities, 
can and will do more to distinguish his name by 
deeds of philanthropy, and enterprises for public 
weal, than any other. 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


2I 5 

Starting out in life as he does, with both the ele- 
ments of success and defeat within him, and with 
the forces of good and evil all around him, this 
smart young man is an interesting object. 

Should he fail in securing a knowledge of him- 
self, and, above all, in maintaining self-govern- 
ment, his bark will founder upon the reefs of ex- 
travagance, in the shoals of conceit, with the first 
tempest of adversity. 

The conservative, quiet young man will scarcely 
ever reach the heights of glory or eminence to 
which the smart young man, properly governed, 
may attain ; but his success, in the long-run, will 
be the greatest. Instead of tact, he has talent. 
He may have but little genius, but he will gener- 
ally possess much wisdom. He may not shine 
brightly, but he will wear long, and be useful. He, 
too, is an interesting object. 

Unpopular with the young ladies, diffident in 
manifesting his preferences, it will frequently hap- 
pen that the girl he loves will go off and marry 
that smart young man without knowing that she 
was loved by him at all. His prodigal brother out- 
strips him at every turn ; and, so far as he can esti- 
mate by first experiences, it pays to have a reputa- 


2l6 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


tion for recklessness. He, too, tries to be reckless 
like his brother or his companion ; but it’s not in 
him, and he makes a failure of it. He is non- 
prodigal by nature, conservative in his intellections, 
conservative in his emotions. Therefore he cannot 
shine. 

His smart brother is married at twenty, perhaps 
at nineteen : he narrowly escapes being an old 
bachelor, and marries at thirty or thirty-five. 
Everybody knew his smart brother’s betrothed, 
and the appointed nuptial day, long before his 
marriage ; and all the people came to the wedding, 
in full dress, with handsome presents. But in his 
case it was different. He appeared to shun the 
lady to whom he was engaged ; and, if any one did 
suspect such an understanding between them, it 
was on that account. The marriage-day came, and 
the invitations were a surprise to all to whom they 
were sent. But few came. There was no great 
display of dress, or parade of presents. No : the 
non-prodigal cannot shine, only the smart young 
man. 

The quiet young man starts in a small way, and 
progresses by degrees, and becomes rich or great, 
and no one realizes it. The smart young man 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


217 


starts out with a rush and a display, and gets a 
reputation for what he does not possess, and a 
glory for what he does not accomplish. 

If the Church succeeds in making a Christian of 
the £mart young man, he will be sure to come into 
the ark with a shout of glory, and his conversion 
will attract great attention in the whole neighbor- 
hood, as though his soul were worth half a dozen 
of the quiet sort. The minister and deacons take 
early knowledge of his gifts and graces, and ten 
chances to one if they do not pet him into the 
ministry. If this does not occur, or if his cttbut 
into the Church is not greeted by some such 
demonstration, the smart young man will more 
than likely return to the “ beggarly elements of the 
world.” 

When the plain, quiet, conservative young man 
joins hands with the people of God, he is not so 
apt to fix upon the exact day and hour and min- 
ute when, and upon the exact church and pew 
where, he was converted. His start is in the midst 
of doubts and uncertainties, but he runs well, and 
at the age of fifty you find him one of the deacons ; 
while his smart brother is either a Talmage or a 
Moody, at the head of some metropolitan congre- 


2l8 


THAT YOUNG MAN 


gation or revival movement, or gone back to the 
world altogether. 

It is, however, pretty hard to tell which is the 
more valuable to the world, the conservative, quiet, 
or the smart, brilliant, young man. Certain it is, 
the world needs them both ; but of the two classes 
the former has much the best of this life. The 
latter may have glory ; but the former has peace, 
which is much better. The former is a danger to 
himself and everybody else, unless properly gov- 
erned. The latter is harmless, and if he benefits 
no one largely he will injure no one. 

The great inventions of the world, and the great 
discoveries of all ages, may probably, for the most 
part, be traceable to the smart young man ; so also 
may we thank him for our great ships, railroads, 
bridges, telegraph-lines, canals, cities, and public 
improvements. He has done much for the world. 

Noah must have been one of the smart young 
men of his day, as none other could have embraced 
so radical a faith : hence we are indebted to his 
peculiar make-up for the preservation of our race. 

John the Baptist must have been the smart 
young man of his day, as the peculiar character of 
his radical preaching plainly shows : hence we are 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


219 


indebted to him for the first tidings of salvation, — 
nay, more, for the identification of the Saviour 
among men. 

In Luther and Knox and Calvin and Wesley 
we find similar characteristics, as also in thousands 
of others who have blessed the world by their 
deeds of radicalism ; but all of these men first J 
gained a knowledge of themselves, and then rose to 
the dignity of benevolent self-restraint to which ac- 
complishment their greatness is directly traceable. 

The smart young man is the mast and the sail ; 
his quiet, plain, conservative brother is the hull ; 
both are necessary to complete the bark. But sad 
indeed will be the fate of the ship, if, when the 
raging tempests blow, the sail is not reefed by the 
restraining hand of the experienced mariner. 

So also do the plain, unassuming, conservative 
young men form the grand base, substratum, or 
foundation of society, while the whole social and 
political fabric is impelled forward by the out- 
spreading wings of radicalism ; but woe to the 
whole structure, if when the winds of disaster 
blow, and the seas of adversity roll, the benevolent 
hand of restraint is not up lifted by the former to 
guide the efforts of the latter ! 


220 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 


Lotta was the foundation, the hull, and the helm ; 
I the mast and the sail. Until I could submit to 
the restraint of her wise counsels, we were often 
cast away. It was through this wilful disobedience 
that I came to disaster in the printing and station- 
ery business. 

But at length, and “ it is better late than never,” 
I gained a knowledge of myself, and, humiliating 
though it falsely seemed, yielded to my better 
judgment and the wise counsels of one who loved 
me better than I loved my life. 

With this change came the first step towards 
real success ; and step by step the brave, patient, 
heroic little woman led me on, and on, and on, 
through many a painful resignation, and to victory 
over many a hard temptation, through the clouds 
and the midnight of unrest, out into the clear, 
bright sunshine of peace and joy and usefulness. 

I had lived half a life to no purpose, as the read- 
er has already seen. The other half is being filled 
up with the faithful execution of noble resolves, for 
the benefit of those around me, to the glory of 
God, and to my own inexpressible satisfaction. 
Such is the story of* 


THAT YOUNG MAN. 
































































































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